Holidays in Paris
by xmagic
Summary: Ginny goes to Paris, alone, and meets someone unexpected. Confusing emotions, snogging of random people, and interesting shopping trips ensue. Rated for safety - some things might not be suitable for younger people, eventually
1. One

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
Paris. The most amazing place she had ever been. Only just arrived in the city via floo powder, Virginia Weasley was already going through sensory overload. The sights, the sounds, the smells, the people... It was all so much to take in.  
  
Walking along the street to her hotel from the French Ministry of Magic Headquarters where she had flooed to, Ginny felt her eyes traveling everywhere at once, eager to take in everything. She walked as though in a trance, twin pools of deep, warm chocolate hue wide and sparkling in silent wonder.  
  
She reached her hotel shortly, a fairly small building of ancient looking stonework in an older looking part of the city. Checking the name of the hotel with the slip of paper held in her hand, Ginny nodded once to herself in confirmation that she was in the right place, and pushed open the door of the hotel.  
  
The inside of the building was the exact opposite of the outside. Where the exterior was old and worn, everything in the hotel lobby was brand new leather and shining chrome. Where the exterior was grungy, the inside was as sterile looking as a hospital.  
  
Ginny sighed softly. What could one expect of a muggle hotel?  
  
She approached the front desk slowly, her small carryall bag slung over her shoulder. The woman behind the marble and chrome desk was using the telephone, and the short wait gave Ginny more time to analyze her surroundings.  
  
There were no fewer than four elevators on the far wall of the vast lobby, their silver doors glinting in the fluorescent lighting. A small gift shop, no doubt way overpriced and selling nothing but junk was situated in a corner of the foyer, and a pair of double doors – one of which was open – lead to the hotel restaurant. A fountain of marble was surrounded by sleek, black leather couches and armchairs, and small glass-topped side tables were scattered here and there between them.  
  
She returned her attention to the front desk, just as the woman behind it hung up the phone.  
  
"Est-ce que je peux vous aider?"  
  
"Oui, je suis ici pour vérifier dans ma salle." Ginny replied in fluent French.  
  
"Nom?"  
  
"Virginia Weasley."  
  
"Très bien Madame Weasley. Vous êtes dans la chambre No. 367, sur le troisième plancher. Svp signe ici."  
  
"Merci. *" Ginny signed the proffered slip of paper, her loopy signature barely fitting into the small space. Taking the key the receptionist slid across the desk, Ginny nodded her thanks once again, and made her way towards the elevators.  
  
A manicured finger punched the 'up' button, and immediately, one set of elevator doors slid open. Entering the lift, Ginny pressed the button for the third floor, and began her ascent.  
  
She reached the third floor without incident, and slid the automated room key into the slot on the door of room 367. The light wooden door opened easily with her push, and soon Ginny had flopped on the double bed in the room, leaving the door open behind her to get rid of some of the stuffiness of a room whose door has been closed too long. Her head hanging upside down off the edge of the bed so auburn tresses pooled slightly on the carpet, she had a clear view of the hallway outside her room.  
  
He walked along the hallway slowly, hating every step he took. Muggles. Disgusting creatures that deserved to be wiped from the face of the Earth.  
  
He counted off in a murmur the rooms he passed on his way to his own; "three-sixty-five, three-sixty-six, three-sixty-sev-"The door to room three hundred and sixty seven was open. He peered in causally, curious as to why someone would leave their door open in a hotel. It was, after all, as though the occupants were begging for someone to look inside.  
  
What he saw was a redheaded girl, sixteen years old, laying with her head hanging from the edge of the mattress, staring out into the hallway as her face turned a slow shade of crimson. He also noted that, with the way she was laying, he could see quite clearly down the front of her tee shirt. Apparently, she was well endowed in the chest area.  
  
His eyes opened wider as he recognized the teenage witch.  
  
Her eyes opened wider as she recognized the wizard standing in front of her door, staring at her.  
  
"What're you doing here?" They inquired of one another at precisely the same moment.  
  
A/N: Muahahahahaha! I feel like being evil and ending the chapter here. No worries, though. You'll find out who he is in the next chapter. But I think it might be kind of obvious – I shall have to work at being more subtle.  
  
*The conversation between Ginny and the Receptionist went as follows:  
  
"Can I help you?"  
  
"Yes, I am here to check into my room."  
  
"Name?"  
  
"Virginia Weasley."  
  
"Very well, Madam Weasley. You are in room number 367, on the third floor. Please sign here."  
  
"Thank you." 


	2. Two

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
"What're you doing here?" They inquired of one another at precisely the same moment.  
  
She sat up on her bed, tossing her hair – which he noticed to be quite, well, lush looking – over her shoulder. The excess blood drained slowly from her face, leaving just the barest hint of pink in her high cheekbones.  
  
Chocolate eyes surveyed him up and down with distaste that had grown to hatred in the five years she had known him.  
  
He stepped just inside the room, folding his arms across his broad chest. The customary smirk curled his lips, as the pale seventeen-year-old surveyed the youngest Weasley. He had to admit – Weasley or not – she was gorgeous. She had certainly matured in the month and a half since he had last seen her at Hogwarts.  
  
"What's this? A Weasley... not staying in a sewage dump with the rest of the refuse of the world?" He drawled, taking another step inside.  
  
"Fuck off, Malfoy," she retorted, standing and drawing her wand, though she wouldn't be able to use it if it came to a duel – she was still underage.  
  
"Tisk, tisk, Weasley. No respect for your elders," Draco replied, drawing his own wand and twirling it tauntingly between his manicured fingers.  
  
"I thought I told you to fuck off, Malfoy." She walked towards him, eyes glinting with fury as he took yet another step into her room.  
  
His gaze traveled appraisingly over her figure, as she stood in front of him. Gray eyes drank in the too-short white pleated skirt, the black tee shirt that clung to the curve of her breasts in a rather flaunting manner, and her legs. Long, tanned, perfectly slender, and accentuated by a pair of four-inch black stilettos.  
  
It was her turn to smirk now, as she rested a slender hand on her hip, the other still grasping her wand loosely – it was now more of a comfort thing than anything.  
  
"Like what you see, Malfoy?" She inquired, arching one delicate brow.  
  
He sneered.  
  
"How, may I ask, did you afford that ensemble, not to mention this hotel room? Been standing on muggle street corners? Or did all the Gryffindors get together and buy a holiday for the House Whore?"  
  
She laughed.  
  
He couldn't help but notice that the sound of her laughter was intoxicating.  
  
"What I do and whom I do are none of your business," she replied, eyes now glimmering with amusement.  
  
It was his turn to arch a brow. It was the first time one of his barbs hadn't sent a Weasley into a fury. Intriguing.  
  
He took another step into the room, and closed the door behind him with a wave of his wand. At this action, he noted with satisfaction, her confidence seemed to wane a little.  
  
"You didn't answer my question, Weasley." He approached her now, as a hunter stalks his prey. But he had to give the girl credit; she held her ground, and wouldn't retreat.  
  
"You didn't answer my question either, Malfoy," Ginny retorted, tapping her foot in irritation. Clearly, she thought, the laws of personal privacy – and personal space – do not apply to Draco Malfoy. Either that, or he wants some, and doesn't care who he gets it from – or how he gets it, for that matter.  
  
He reached out the hand not holding his wand, and ran his index finger softly over her jaw line, before cupping her chin in his hand.  
  
She started to tremble, the motion barely noticeable, as the gravity of the situation began to sink in. She was alone. In Paris. No one knew she was here, except for her family and friends. No one knew who she was. She had a wand she couldn't use, still being underage as she was. And now Draco Malfoy was in her hotel room, armed with a wand, and blocking her only escape.  
  
A small smirk curled his lips, as he felt her start to tremble. She was scared, now, and had good reason to be.  
  
"Fuck off, Malfoy," she repeated her earlier words, an insolent pout forming on her lips to match the returning glint of anger in her eyes.  
  
"I do believe I need to teach you some respect, Weasley," he replied smoothly, tightening his hold on her chin and raising her head just high enough so she was looking directly into his eyes. "After all," he added softly, "you will be under my direction this term at Hogwarts. And as Head Boy, I can't have you mouthing off like that... Prefects are supposed to set a good example for the younger students..."  
  
His head dipped down swiftly, and he pressed his lips to hers in a kiss hard enough to bruise her lips. She managed to free herself, after a brief struggle, and as soon as she was free, she slapped him hard across the face. The silver ring she was wearing left small beads of crimson liquid seeping from a cut high on his cheek. He didn't seem to notice, or chose not to, and Ginny frowned.  
  
"Fuck off. And get out of my room, or I'll call security."  
  
He laughed softly, a mocking sound that sent chills up her spine.  
  
"You're all alone, Virginia. All alone and there's no one to hear you scream..."  
  
A/N: Ah, how I love to leave you hanging... 


	3. Three

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
"You're all alone, Virginia. All alone and there's no one to hear you scream..."  
  
She shuddered involuntarily at his words, horrified eyes growing wider.  
  
He advanced, and she took an unconscious step back, raising her wand. Did this qualify as a life-threatening situation? She wondered.  
  
"Get out, Malfoy. Now." Her voice trembled slightly, though the arrogance was still there.  
  
He laughed again, but was amazed that she hadn't yet tried to escape.  
  
"Scared, Virginia?" Draco asked, lifting his wand to point at her chest.  
  
"So it's Virginia, now, is it? Since when, Draco, are we on a first name basis?" Ginny retorted, laying sarcastic emphasis on his first name. It was an attempt to change the subject from the panic rising in her throat.  
  
"Do you really think you are in a position to irritate me, Virginia?" He asked with a veiled threat in his cold drawl, advancing again and forcing her to take another step backwards.  
  
She felt something digging into the small of her back, at her retreat, and let one hand slide behind her to feel the doorjamb that lead to her balcony. She was –  
  
"Trapped," Draco said, his tone soft and menacing.  
  
He raised his wand so the tip was pointed at her neck, and she raised her chin slightly to prevent her flesh coming in contact with the wooden implement.  
  
"So beautiful. I can see now why Potter kept you as a toy last year..." He murmured, running a pale finger once more over her jaw line.  
  
"You motherfucking, cocksucking, spoiled, arrogant, evil, wretched waste of human flesh," she hissed, clenching her jaw and raising her hand to slap him again.  
  
Her hand made contact once again with his flesh, and his face turned with the force of her blow. Ginny took advantage of the upper hand she had just gained, and fled for the door of her hotel room, high heels only slightly hampering her escape.  
  
She yanked open the wooden door with such force it probably dented the wall, and tore down the corridor towards the elevators, not daring to look back.  
  
The distance to the end of the hall didn't seem to lessen as she ran, but at long last, after a few desperate moments, she reached the wall of elevator doors and punched the button frantically, silently urging the lift to hurry up.  
  
He turned and watched her flee the room, his face smarting and a red handprint showing clearly on his pale skin. A cold and calculating expression crossed his face, as Draco walked to the now-open door and looked down the hall, to see the youngest Weasley sprinting towards the elevators.  
  
She would be back, he knew. She would have to come back – all her things were still here. And, unless he was very much mistaken, the long wooden wand laying discarded on the floor was hers.  
  
He smirked, and left the room, carrying her bag and wand.  
  
"Virginia..." he called down the corridor, just loud enough to be heard.  
  
She turned at the sound of her name, shaking both in fury and panic, and looked at him with horrified eyes. He was holding her bag. More importantly, he was holding her wand.  
  
Ginny watched in dismay as his smirk widened, and Draco turned away from her, walking down the hall to his own room. He opened the door, and she could just make out the number: 383.  
  
"FUCK!" She screeched, causing more than a few heads to peek out of their doors. She stared as Draco entered his room with a satisfied swagger, and closed the door firmly behind him.  
  
"Goddamn, motherfucking, cocksucking, asshole. I'll kill him, so help me," she muttered, as the lift doors opened and she entered the blessedly empty carriage.  
  
She punched the button for the main level with such force she broke a nail, and folded her arms across her chest. Her terror was replaced now with fury, and she tapped her foot with impatience as the lift made its slow way to the main floor.  
  
As the lift descended, she uttered a long string of insults, curses, profanities and obscenities, all directed at Draco Malfoy. She was quite lucky, really, that her mother couldn't hear her, or Ginny would have found her mouth full of soap.  
  
At long last, the doors opened to admit her to the lobby, and she stepped out quickly. She looked around, attempting to regain her composure and decide what to do.  
  
She knew she would have to go back. She would have to go to his room, to get her things. And as soon as she got them, she would beat the shit out of him and go home. He deserved it.  
  
Ginny sighed. She was totally screwed. Leaving the hotel, she wandered down the street, cursing herself for entering the Daily Prophet writing contest, cursing herself for winning, and cursing herself for not depositing her 1000 galleons prize money in Gringotts, and spending it on this holiday.  
  
Long legs taking her swiftly down the street, Ginny arrived shortly on a street lined with clothing shops. Chocolate eyes peered through the display window of one of the shops, spotted something that caught her fancy, blinked twice, before she was entering the shop.  
  
"Est-ce que je peux vous aider, Madame?" Ginny heard the voice behind her, as she examined a purple silk scarf.  
  
"Non, merci," Ginny replied, turning to the black haired salesgirl who was standing directly behind her.  
  
"Très bien. Si vous avez besoin d'aide, trouvez-moi."  
  
"Merci.*"  
  
The salesgirl left to answer the telephone, and Ginny was left to her browsing. Slowly, she traveled to the back of the store, where she spotted again the item that had drawn her into the store.  
  
It was pale blue in color, fine silk, and cut quite daringly. The dress didn't seem to be very popular, really, as there were several still on the hangers. She cocked her head to the side, and riffled through the hangers to find her size.  
  
Pulling the slinky garment from the rack, Ginny held it up and examined it. There was certainly nothing wrong with it. A smile crept across her features, and Ginny hurried to the fitting rooms in one corner of the store.  
  
Once inside one of the small cubicles, Ginny exchanged her clothing for the tiny dress, and left the change room to find a mirror.  
  
As she was examining the front of the garment, the salesgirl came up to her.  
  
"Il semble parfait sur vous."  
  
"Pensez-vous ainsi?" Ginny asked, turning slightly to see the back of the outfit.  
  
"Absolument."  
  
"I'll take it," Ginny said, on impulse falling into English.  
  
"Oh! You speak English?" The salesgirl seemed quite surprised, and also relieved to be speaking in English.  
  
"Of course! I'm from England."  
  
"Oh, you're so lucky!"  
  
The two girls talked for a while, exchanging jokes and such, as they approached the front of the store.  
  
"You know what would look absolutely stunning with this?" The salesgirl – whose name was Marie – asked, holding up the shimmery mass of blue silk.  
  
"Hmm?" Ginny replied, examining once again the purple scarf.  
  
Marie hurried over to a small alcove in which racks of shoes were displayed, and Ginny followed. Pulling a pair of silver heels – five-inch stilettos – from the shelf, she handed them to Ginny.  
  
"Try them on!"  
  
Ginny laughed, and obliged her new friend, taking her own heels off and replacing them with the silver ones.  
  
"Woah..." She looked down at her feet, as though amazed. She had found heels that were actually totally comfortable. It was amazing. Marie shared her sentiments.  
  
"Amazing, aren't they?" She asked with a nod towards the miracle shoes.  
  
"I'll take them, as well," Ginny replied with a laugh.  
  
Marie nodded knowingly, and the two left the alcove. They reached the till, and Marie boxed up both shoes and dress, wrapping them in tissue paper, before ringing up the bill.  
  
Ginny took a small satchel of money from where she had stashed it on a tie around her thigh, and paid for her purchases. She bade farewell to Marie, and left the shop, leaden down with a bag in each hand.  
  
She heaved a heavy sigh and turned her feet towards her hotel. Upon reaching the stone building, she pushed open the door with her foot, leaving a small dusty print on the glass, and entered the lobby.  
  
Drained from the afternoon's events, Ginny walked towards the elevators with both dread and relief. Dread that he was up there, possibly in her room waiting for her, and relief that she would be able to go to her room and rest – her feet were killing her.  
  
Punching the 'up' button with her middle finger, she waited for the doors of one of the lifts to open. When at last one set of the silver barriers slid apart, Ginny stepped inside and pressed the button that would take her to her floor.  
  
The doors were just closing when a pale hand with long, slender fingers grasped the door, holding it until it reopened. He stepped inside, a smirk on his face, and pressed the already lit '3' button. She moved to the corner, eyeing him with nothing less than loathing in its purest form, and watched the silver doors slide shut again.  
  
"Virginia. Fancy meeting you here," Draco said, laughing softly as she trembled at the sound of his voice.  
  
He thought for a moment; she was terrified, wandless, and confined to an elevator with him. He could press the 'stop' button, and have a little fun...  
  
A/N: Oh how I love writing evil gits! It's so... satisfying. And, I know, he's sort of more evil than the Draco in the books, and she's different too, but they /are/ two years older than the last book. So things could have changed.  
  
*the first conversation between Ginny and the salesgirl goes as follows:  
  
"May I help you, Madam?"  
  
"No, thank you."  
  
"Very well. If you need help, find me."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
The second conversation – when Ginny is looking at herself in the dress – between Ginny and the first salesgirl goes as follows:  
  
"It seems perfect on you."  
  
"Do you think so?"  
  
"Absolutely." 


	4. Four

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: Woohoo! People like my story! Eeee! My eternal thanks to everyone who has reviewed it, and I would thank you all personally, but I'm too lazy. You all know who you are, though, and I love you! It's true!  
  
Oh, oh! There is one thing that I must point out, or explain, or whatever. In regards to a review I received from Nichole Malfoy: you are absolutely right. Tres bien should be very good, not very well. I would change it, but again, I'm too lazy. It's sort of the same thing, though.  
  
Anyway. On to the story...  
  
"Virginia. Fancy meeting you here," Draco said, laughing softly as she trembled at the sound of his voice.  
  
"I should kill you," Ginny replied, setting her bags on the floor of the lift and folding her arms across her chest.  
  
He reached out his hand, one finger hovering over the 'stop' button on the panel.  
  
"Virginia, please. You would be dead before you laid a hand on me. But do you really think it wise to be making threats? You are, after all, pretty much at my mercy."  
  
"Oh? And how is that?"  
  
"I have your wand. I have your money. And at the moment, you are stuck in an elevator with me. I could kill you now, if I felt like it."  
  
"So do it," Ginny said, her voice steady, her warm eyes daring him.  
  
He watched her for a moment, surprised by the conviction in her words. Her voice had been steady, clear – not a hint of a tremble. She was confident that he wouldn't kill her, and she was right.  
  
The lift reached the third floor, and the doors slid open. She picked up her bags, slender fingers grasping the handles tightly, and left the small compartment.  
  
"Wench," he hissed after her, stepping out himself.  
  
She glanced back at him, a smirk curling her lips. Flipping her hair over her shoulder, she walked down the hallway to her room. He stared at her retreating back, dreadfully wanting to pull out his wand and hex her.  
  
She looked back once more, chocolate eyes glittering with amusement that he could see from his position at the opposite end of the hall. She smiled, an expression he could only classify as seductive, and disappeared into her room.  
  
Repressing the urge to blow up the entire building, Draco sauntered down the hall with forced calm. He stopped momentarily in front of her door, and listened.  
  
Ginny got into her room, and dropped her bags and herself onto the bed. She started to laugh, quite pleased with herself, and lay there for some time, relieving her stress with laughter.  
  
He berated himself for listening, as he heard her intoxicating laughter through the door. Again repressing the urge to blow up the building, he left her door and made his way swiftly to his own room.  
  
Draco slammed the wooden door of his room behind him, and sat on the edge of the bed. He sat for a moment, thinking, before he got up and went to the desk where he had placed her bag and wand. He hadn't looked through her possessions earlier, but had followed her from the hotel.  
  
He thought back over the past hour, as he followed her through the streets. When she had disappeared into that boutique, he had settled down at the café across the street, and watched the entrance of the store. When she had emerged, bearing two bags adorned with the shop's logo, he had followed her back to the hotel.  
  
It had been a fairly uneventful hour, except for the fact that he had been forced to fight the urge to grab the girl and rape her in an alley. She was just so... alluring.  
  
But now he had time to see what the youngest Weasley had brought with her on vacation to Paris. He had a feeling it would be an educational experience.  
  
Ginny sighed, back in her room. She was ravenous, the events of the evening having stirred her appetite. She sat up from her prone position, and reached to the drawer of the nightstand on the left side of the bed. Pulling open the small compartment, she removed the binder that was dubbed "hotel services" by the silver lettering on its front, and flipped the information book open to the restaurant menu.  
  
The hotel restaurant didn't appear to be the best place to eat, if she was in the mood for traditional French food. Though the menu was varied, it contained nothing of what she was looking for.  
  
Sighing again, she pulled the phone book from the drawer, and turned the pages in search of a restaurant guide. Apparently they didn't have those in French phone books.  
  
While Ginny was looking for somewhere to eat dinner, Draco was sifting through her underwear – quite literally. His pale fingers drifted through her bag, pulling out the occasional item here and there, looking at it, before tossing it unceremoniously back in the duffel.  
  
A particular item that caught his eye was her nightgown – all black satin and lace, and no doubt barely long enough to cover that oh-so gorgeous looking ass of hers.  
  
He looked at it for a short moment more, before returning it to her bag. When at last he had gone through the main compartment quite thoroughly, he moved on to the side pockets. He pulled the small money purse from the end pocket, and opened it up.  
  
Apparently, Weasley had gotten a good rate on exchanging her winnings from the Daily Prophet writing contest, Draco thought, judging by the large sum of money tucked neatly into the pouch.  
  
She decided that the best way to find somewhere good for dinner would be to ask at the front desk, so Ginny picked up the telephone and called down to the front desk.  
  
The receptionist answered, and Ginny explained her 'predicament' concerning choosing somewhere for dinner. Thankfully, Ginny noted, the woman spoke English.  
  
"You want somewhere nice to eat dinner, that has classic French cuisine?"  
  
"Yes, please, if you have any recommendations."  
  
The receptionist rattled off a few names, and Ginny asked her opinion on all three. After about ten minutes of discussion, during which the receptionist outlined the good points and the bad of each restaurant, Ginny thanked her profusely, and hung up.  
  
She decided the high-class restaurant, as it seemed the most classic French. She found the name in the phone book, and called to make a reservation; it was the height of tourist season, and she didn't want to have to wait for a table.  
  
It was the perfect opportunity to wear her new dress, Ginny thought, as she changed into the slinky garment. That, of course, and the fact that she had none of her other clothes to change into.  
  
As that thought crossed her mind, Ginny remembered her money – most of which was in a pouch in her duffel. And she knew that what was in the small satchel still strapped to her thigh would not be enough to buy dinner.  
  
"Shit," she muttered, as she was looking at herself in the mirror, pleased with the final result of an hour of preparation.  
  
She sat on the edge of her bed, and pondered her dilemma. There was only one solution: she would have to get her things back.  
  
Heaving a resigned sigh, Ginny left her room quickly, trying to formulate a plan for the recovery of her stolen belongings. Nothing in particular came to mind, other than shagging him in exchange for her duffel and wand. She shuddered at the thought.  
  
He had long ago replaced her money in the duffel, not bothering to steal it, as much fun as seeing Weasley begging for her money would be. He was lounging on his bed, flipping boredly through a Quidditch magazine, when a knock came on his door.  
  
She reached his door, checked the number with that stored in her memory, and knocked, her heart pounding with dread and disgust.  
  
"Who is it?" He called, though he had a pretty good idea of who was standing on the other side of the barrier.  
  
"Open up this fucking door, Malfoy, or I'll kick it down myself," Ginny yelled, thankful that most of the hotel's patrons were out to dinner, for no heads peeked curiously out of doors.  
  
He smirked, and got up from the bed. He sauntered over to the door, and opened it as far as the safety chain would allow.  
  
"Can I help you, Virginia?" Draco asked smoothly, removing the chain and opening the door farther.  
  
"You can give me back my things, is what you can do," Ginny retorted, folding her arms across her chest. She would kick the ass in the nuts, and then beat him to a pulp, but she was afraid it would ruin her shoes and she really didn't want to break another nail.  
  
His gaze swept lazily and obviously over her attire, taking in the silk dress that clung provocatively to her curves. It was perfectly revealing, he decided, as the blue silk was cut in exactly the right places for her willowy frame – it revealed just enough to have eyes drawn to it, and just little enough to keep people wondering how much more there was too see. She looked like a mystery, all wrapped up for the solving.  
  
Draco licked his lips suggestively, as his gaze fell to her legs that were completely bare but for the occasional strip of artfully torn silk here and there.  
  
She smirked, and shifted her weight slightly so that the silk swirled for a moment before settling in an entirely different pattern over her body. One thigh was now almost completely bare, a small patch of fabric just covering the space over her underwear.  
  
He gulped.  
  
"Malfoy. My money. Now," Ginny said, having had quite enough of the filthy scum ogling her.  
  
"Let me think about that for a moment... No." Draco replied, regaining his composure.  
  
"You little fucker. I need my money. You can keep all the other shit for now, but I'm going out to dinner and I need my money. Now hand it over," she spat, placing a hand on her exposed hip and shifting again, to reveal yet another pattern to the dress.  
  
He laughed, the same mocking sound that sent chills up her spine.  
  
"Virginia, gorgeous, I will give you your money when I am good and ready to return it. And at the moment, I'm quite happy to keep it."  
  
"What did you just say?" Ginny asked, raising a brow in disbelief.  
  
"I said that I will return your money when I am good and ready to. And at the moment, I don't feel like returning it," Draco replied, speaking slowly as if she didn't understand English.  
  
"Before that."  
  
"Virginia."  
  
"After that."  
  
"Gorgeous."  
  
"Give me my money."  
  
"No."  
  
"Listen, Malfoy, I would beat you to a pulp right now, but I'm going to be late for my dinner reservation, and I really don't want to get your filthy blood on this dress. So I suggest you give me my money before I get really angry."  
  
"Dinner reservations?"  
  
"Dinner reservations."  
  
"Meeting someone?"  
  
"No, not that it's any of your business."  
  
"Why, may I ask, did you make dinner reservations to have dinner alone?"  
  
"Because I don't feel like having to wait for two hours to get a table."  
  
"I doubt that you would have to wait two hours. The only place that could possibly have a wait that long would be a high-class restaurant. And you certainly cannot afford that."  
  
"At the moment, I can't. But as soon as you hand over my money, I'll be able to afford it, and anything else that might catch my fancy."  
  
"I thought we've already touched on this subject; you aren't getting your money."  
  
"You know what, fine. What do I have to do to get my money?" Ginny was nearly desperate now – she had about ten minutes to get to the restaurant if se wanted to make her reservation.  
  
He sighed in exasperation.  
  
"You really are irritating, you know that?"  
  
"I would irritate you no more tonight if you would just give me my money."  
  
He closed the door in her face.  
  
"Open. The. Fucking. Door. Now. Malfoy," Ginny said, pounding her fist on the door with each word.  
  
A few moments later, just as Ginny was about to risk breaking her shoe and kick the door, the barrier opened, and Draco stepped out of his room, a satisfied smirk on his pale face.  
  
He closed the door behind him, and leaned against it, looking her up and down once more. He couldn't help it; the dress she was wearing was more eye-catching than anything he'd ever seen.  
  
She, in turn, looked him up and down, though her appraising glance was better hidden. He had changed his clothes from casual trousers and a loose shirt to a pair of black dress pants, black dress shirt, and silver tie. He looked as though he intended to go to a fancy restaurant for dinner.  
  
Realization dawned on her features, and Ginny shook her head, tousling her artfully teased auburn tresses.  
  
"No way, uh-uh, not a chance."  
  
He smirked and turned away from her, and swaggered down the hall as though he owned the world. Which, she reasoned, as far as she was concerned at the moment, he did. Her world, at least.  
  
When he didn't hear her following, he turned to see her still glaring daggers at the door to his hotel room.  
  
"Virginia, I'm not in there any more. And if you wish to make your dinner reservation, I suggest you hurry."  
  
She turned and, with a resigned pace, walked slowly to where he stood waiting.  
  
"I'm going to kill you, so help me god," she said, her voice shaking with fury.  
  
"As I made clear this afternoon: you would be dead before you laid a hand on me," Draco replied, 'accidentally' letting his wand fall from a hidden pocket in the sleeve of his shirt.  
  
It fell to the floor, the sound muffled by the carpet, and as Ginny picked it up, a pair of slender, manicured fingers encircled her wrist.  
  
A/N: Longish chapter. I think. It's longer than the other ones, at any rate. And it's not a very good place to stop, but I feel I've rambled enough for one chapter, I think.  
  
Thanks again for all the reviews! 


	5. Five

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: YAY! More reviews! I love you all!  
  
Anyway. On to the chapter...  
  
She looked down at the fingers circling her wrist, and tightened her grip on his wand. He, in turn, tightened his grip on her wrist.  
  
"Let go," he whispered in her ear, squeezing still tighter on her wrist. His thumb appeared to have hit a pressure point, and she dropped the wand with a small whimper of pain.  
  
He released her wrist and picked up his wand, and then both were standing again, she rubbing her wrist and glaring daggers at him, he smirking and tucking his wand back up his sleeve.  
  
"Shall we?" He asked, offering her his arm, gray eyes glimmering with amusement at her rising fury.  
  
She folded her arms across her chest and remained where she was.  
  
"This isn't getting my money back. All this is doing is giving you a chance to publicly humiliate me," she replied.  
  
He laughed – Merlin she hated that sound – and took two steps towards her, so he was standing not three inches in front her.  
  
Draco couldn't help but notice how she smelled like, well, he couldn't describe her scent. But it was an intoxicating combination of chamomile, lavender, and roses, and it sent his senses swirling. The urge to take her, willingly or not, came back, and an evil glint replaced that of amusement in his eyes.  
  
He towered over her normally by about ten inches, and the five gained by her heels did little to diminish his imposing stature.  
  
"I have something you want, true?" He inquired, quite enjoying himself.  
  
"True," she replied with a pout of her glossed lips.  
  
"You want it back, true?"  
  
"True."  
  
"You would do anything to get it back, true?"  
  
"True," she conceded.  
  
"Then I suggest you wipe that insolent pout from your face, and accompany me to dinner."  
  
"But how, exactly, am I supposed to pay for dinner, if you have my money?"  
  
"Have you forgotten who I am, Virginia?"  
  
"It would be pretty hard to forget who you are, Malfoy. You're the one who's made my life miserable for the past five years. And you're the one who is ruining my holiday."  
  
"Then why do you expect to pay for dinner?"  
  
"Because I won't be indebted to you."  
  
Again, he laughed, and she flinched involuntarily.  
  
"You will not owe me anything for this dinner, Virginia. Consider it as a step to retrieving your belongings."  
  
"I hardly believe that," she retorted, but started toward the elevator nonetheless. It would be best, she decided, to get this whole horrible occurrence over with as soon as possible.  
  
He smiled a sly smile, and caught up to her with a few short strides. Once again, he offered his arm, and this time she accepted the gesture and wrapped her arm around his.  
  
They reached the lifts quickly, and as soon as he pressed the button one set of doors opened up. He released her arm, and allowed her to enter the elevator first.  
  
She couldn't help but notice, as she passed him, that he smelt rather like she imagined a rainforest would, tropical and sweet but deadly and mysterious at the same time. She had noticed it before, but it was more apparent than ever when he entered the lift after her, and the doors closed.  
  
He pressed the button that would take them to the lobby, and when the doors opened he wrapped his arm around her waist and guided her out of the lift. She flinched, slightly, at his touch, and looked up at him, a threat hidden in her warm brown eyes.  
  
"Let go of me," Ginny hissed, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp without looking conspicuous.  
  
"Remember our deal," Draco replied, in an amused murmur.  
  
"We didn't have a deal. We didn't shake on it, nor did we sign anything, therefore there is no deal."  
  
"Hush. And stop squirming. You're beginning to attract attention," he returned, gripping her waist tighter, so that his fingers just barely dug into the soft flesh of her abdomen.  
  
She obediently stopped wriggling, as his fingers bit into her flesh, and dropped her head in submission. Gods how she hated him! She would get her revenge, Ginny vowed, as Draco lead her out of the hotel and into the bustling street beyond.  
  
He hailed a taxi, and after both had climbed into the black vehicle, Draco asked her where their dinner reservations were for.  
  
"Le Chateau Blanche," she answered, loud enough for the driver to hear.  
  
She watched as the driver nodded his head, and pulled away from the curb in front of the hotel. They reached the restaurant in a matter of moments, the white-brick building being only two blocks from their hotel.  
  
Draco helped her from the cab, and as soon as she was out he wrapped his arm around her waist once more. He smiled wickedly as she didn't bother to fight it, and guided her away from the street and into the cool interior of the restaurant.  
  
Judging by the gasp that parted her lips, Draco supposed she was quite taken with the décor of the restaurant.  
  
"Have you never been here before?" He inquired, a knowing smirk curling his lips.  
  
"Do you really need to ask that?" She returned, as they approached the small alcove in which the host was standing.  
  
Ginny noted with a smirk of her own that the eyes of the young man who was now leading them to their table had traveled appraisingly and hungrily over her body when she had introduced herself and explained the situation.  
  
They were led to a table in a semi-secluded alcove at the back of the dining room. Apparently, judging by the way they were the only people in that corner of the room, the host had figured that the two teenagers were a couple. Ginny had noted this, and the fact that the young man had seemed quite disappointed to leave them. Or, more accurately, her.  
  
They opened their menus in silence, she wanting desperately to be back in her hotel room, he with a smirk on his face, looking as though he knew exactly what she was thinking.  
  
She thought at first of just ordering the first thing she saw on the menu, but decided against it. Malfoy was paying. She could eat anything she wanted, and wouldn't have to worry about picking up the bill.  
  
A wicked smile crossed her features, and Ginny perused the menu slowly, finding the most expensive French delicacies, and preparing to order.  
  
Draco watched as the smile played on her lips, and he had an idea of what she was planning. He was a Malfoy, filthy rich, and had already told her that she wouldn't owe him anything for this meal. He was about to make a snide comment about her family, just to get her angry, when the waiter showed up and offered a better alternative.  
  
Draco looked up at the youth who appeared to be no older than Draco himself, and spoke before the other could open his mouth.  
  
"Avez-vous des recommandations pour un repas romantique pour deux?" Draco inquired in perfect French, looking condescendingly up at the waiter.  
  
The server looked from Draco, who was being his usual arrogant self, to Ginny, who looked quite appalled at what Draco had just asked. Of course, being at work, he wasn't allowed to say anything about the glare she directed at the blonde boy, nor the satisfied smirk that the blonde boy returned.  
  
"Bien, nous avons une soirée spéciale qui est tout à fait populaire parmi la plupart des couples qui fréquentent notre restaurant, si vous voudriez cela. C'est un chef spécial, un repas que le chef prépare particulièrement pour ceux le mangeant. Un de mes favoris personnels, réellement."  
  
"Le spécial est très bien. Et je voudrais une bouteille du Bordeaux de Girolate, svp."  
  
"Oui monsieur."  
  
The server left, taking the menus with him, and Ginny kicked Draco under the table.  
  
"You self-absorbed ass!" She hissed, kicking him again. Ooh, how she hated him! She could see more clearly than ever why her brother and Harry so wanted to kill the young heir to the Malfoy estate.  
  
"Virginia, darling, what /is/ the problem?" Draco inquired, feigning ignorance.  
  
"You know full well what the problem is, Malfoy. You!"  
  
Oh, he was enjoying himself, she could see it in the way he smirked at her comment. She would have kicked him again, but her toes were smarting, and she really didn't feel like being in pain on top of everything else.  
  
She leant back in her seat, re-crossing her legs under the table, and folded her arms across her chest. The petulant pout was back on her lips, and he smiled wickedly.  
  
"Are you having fun?" She asked, her tone quite unlike any he had heard her use so far. She sounded as though she were feeling sorry for herself.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't quite understand the question, Virginia," Draco replied, frowning slightly.  
  
"I asked if you're having fun."  
  
"I suppose..."  
  
"So you have fun taking advantage of a young girl, all on her own, helpless and quite unable to defend herself? You have fun forcing her into things with threats and such? You enjoy the power it gives you to watch me beg you for my things?" She hissed, her eyes glittering with disgust.  
  
"May I point a few things out, my dear?"  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"You chose to leave your room this morning. I did not force you to leave."  
  
She snorted. "Yeah, and I was going to stay there and let myself be raped. Right."  
  
He laughed again, and she shuddered.  
  
"Secondly, darling, it was you who failed to take your things with you when you fled. I merely took them for safekeeping."  
  
"I so believe that."  
  
"And, I gave you the choice not to accompany me tonight. But you are so fond of material possessions that you chose to accompany me."  
  
"Yes, after you informed me that you wouldn't return my things if I didn't."  
  
"And that proves my point, my dear."  
  
She glowered at him, but said nothing more. He was right, much as she hated to admit it.  
  
A short time later, their server returned without the Bordeaux Draco had ordered, and the first course of their meal. Ginny learned, as the waiter described their meal, that this would be the first course in six. He also explained that, due to the circumstances of the meal, all drinks would come with the course – the reason he hadn't brought along the Bordeaux.  
  
Draco seemed quite displeased with this, and Ginny couldn't help but feel somehow triumphant. The Prince of Slytherin hadn't gotten his way, for once.  
  
He saw the look on her face, and vowed to get some type of revenge for it later; it wasn't a wise move on her part, to be happy at his displeasure.  
  
The waiter left, and the Slytherin and the Gryffindor started on their soup, she wanting to dump the hot contents of her bowl over Draco's head, he wanting, not for the first time since they had reached the restaurant, to slap her silly.  
  
"Prick," she said suddenly, in between bites of soup.  
  
He glared, and she smirked. Perhaps she could play a little game...  
  
She had, after all, been able to seduce more than one Slytherin. Why should Draco be any different?  
  
A/N: First conversation between Draco and the waiter goes as follows: (this one's sort of a rough translation...)  
  
"Do you have recommendations for a romantic meal for two?"  
  
"Well, we have one evening special which is completely popular among the majority of the couples which attend our restaurant, if you would like that. It is a chef special, a meal which the chef particularly prepares for those eating it. One of my personal favorites, really."  
  
"The special is good. And I would like a bottle of the Girolate Bordeaux, please."  
  
"Yes sir." 


	6. Six

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
"May I inquire, Virginia, as to why you feel the need to spout useless bits of nonsense?" Draco asked, raising a brow.  
  
"No, you may not," she replied, before returning to her soup.  
  
Insolent little tart, he thought, returning to his own meal. But a beautiful insolent little tart. Damn he wanted her! Of course, he pondered, setting down his soup spoon in his now-empty bowl, he could have her. All he'd have to do was tell her it was another step to getting her things back...  
  
A truly evil and hungry expression crossed his face, as he thought of her on her knees in front of him... Draco shook the thought from his head, and sat back in his seat, watching in silence as she finished her soup and pushed the bowl away.  
  
"Draco, love, do you have a problem?" She asked in a sickly sweet voice, not particularly enjoying the fact that he was staring at her with an indescribable look in his gray eyes.  
  
"Not at all, Virginia. Why do you ask?"  
  
"Because you were staring at me..."  
  
"Was I?"  
  
"And I thought you were supposed to be intelligent," she quipped, looking over his shoulder towards their waiter, who was approaching slowly, laden down with the next course of their meal.  
  
The young man, whom she now knew was called Andre, replaced the empty soup bowls with plates a steaming concoction called Crepe Normande. The seafood dish was accompanied by a Sauvignon Blanc from a winery in New Zealand.  
  
Ginny took a sip of the wine, and was pleased with the taste; the only word she could find to describe it was 'bright'. A small smile crossed her lips, as she took a tentative bite of the Crepe Normande, and wasn't so pleased with the taste. She had never been one to like seafood.  
  
An odd expression crossed her face, and she swallowed down the small bit of food in her mouth. She was most assuredly not going to be eating this course.  
  
"What's wrong Virginia? Don't like seafood?" Draco asked, taking a bite of his own food.  
  
A similar expression to hers crossed his face, and Draco gagged. She smirked.  
  
"What's wrong Draco? Don't like seafood?" She inquired, mocking him.  
  
He glowered at her, and choked down the bit of seafood in his mouth and didn't bother to answer.  
  
Instead, he downed half his glass of wine, and left the table. She breathed a sigh of relief, at his departure, and wondered absently if he'd gone to the restroom – he had looked faintly ill, like he was going to throw up.  
  
Sadly, her solitude was not long lived, as Draco returned with the waiter, who was apologizing most profusely. The latter, cleared their plates, and, to Ginny's distaste, their wine glasses as well. She had liked that Sauvignon Blanc.  
  
The petulant frown returned to her lips, and Ginny leaned back in her seat.  
  
"You know," she said, as Draco slid into his chair opposite her, "this wouldn't have happened if you hadn't ordered this bloody special."  
  
He looked quite menacing when he was angry, Ginny had found out earlier that day, but he was more frightening when he was trying to hide his anger. His eyes sort of... sparked. She shivered.  
  
"It would not be prudent, Virginia, to make me more angry than I already am. So I suggest that you shut your mouth, and do not speak unless spoken to," he replied in a tone she could only classify as sinister.  
  
"You know, you don't have to get so angry about not liking a course in your meal," Ginny retorted, her own tone derisive.  
  
Draco looked at her over the table, his face quite expressionless. She arched a brow, somewhat spooked by his lack of emotion. When still he said nothing, and his face remained blank, she shivered again.  
  
She really was quite insufferable, Draco thought, as he watched the girl go from taunting to perplexed to frightened. He sat in silence for a moment, watching her steadily.  
  
"I do believe that this meal is over," he stated after a while, when their waiter did not return.  
  
"What /are/ you talking about?" She was incredulous.  
  
"Our waiter has not returned. I specifically informed him that if he did not repair the damage done, we would be leaving. And now, Virginia, we are leaving. Come along." Draco replied, standing.  
  
"No."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
"I said no. I want my meal."  
  
"You are forgetting, Virginia, that you have no money."  
  
"Draco? Please?" She pouted, the expression on her face one that had gotten her out of trouble many times in the past. Apparently it didn't work on the Dark Prince.  
  
"Come along, Virginia," he repeated himself, tapping a foot in impatience.  
  
She sighed, and stood, having learnt by now that it was pretty much fruitless to argue with him. When she was beside him, she felt his arm encircle her waist once more, and Draco guided her to the front of the restaurant.  
  
He stopped when they reached the small alcove where the host stood, and Draco spoke rapidly in French, paid a small sum of money, and fairly dragged Ginny out of the building. He was fuming.  
  
"What? Pissed off because for once in your life someone wouldn't let you weasel out of paying?" She asked sardonically, with a slight huff of derision.  
  
His fingers bit into her flesh, silencing any further remarks from the youngest Weasley, and he started to guide her down the street.  
  
She sighed in resignation, as they walked down the street. It could have been a perfect picture, she thought; a young couple, in Paris, walking down the street in the evening... If only the person she was walking with weren't Draco Malfoy.  
  
"This sucks," she muttered, kicking a pebble.  
  
"Not enjoying yourself, Virginia?" He inquired, looking down at her.  
  
She looked up at him, and, rather than replying, she stuck her tongue out at him.  
  
"My, my, I didn't know you were so childish," he said softly, just as she was looking away.  
  
"It's best to act like a child when dealing with one," she retorted, not looking at him.  
  
"Must I keep reminding you that you are in no place to insult me, Virginia?"  
  
"You insult me, so I retaliate. It's sort of a habit of mine."  
  
"Then I suggest you break that habit, or you will never get your things back."  
  
She stuck her tongue out once more.  
  
"You know what I would like you to do with that tongue of yours?" He purred suggestively in her ear. She shivered, not from fear, but from the delicious chills that were running up her spine.  
  
He smiled wickedly.  
  
They had reached the hotel, and he pushed open the door, and guided her through the lobby to the elevators. She pressed the button, and when a pair of silver doors slid open, he directed her through them and into the elevator.  
  
He pressed the number '3' button, and the doors slid shut just before the elevator began its ascent. With a small ping, the movement stopped, and the panels opened again.  
  
Draco directed her out of the elevator, and along the hall. When they reached her door, she started to pull away from him, but was restrained by his fingers biting once again into the sensitive flesh of her abdomen.  
  
"I believe, Draco, that your game is over for the evening. This is my room. I don't intend to stay glued to your side for the rest of the night." Ginny spat, attempting to wriggle out of his grasp.  
  
"Whether you intend to or not, darling, at my side is where you'll stay," Draco replied smoothly, pulling her closer to him.  
  
"I won't."  
  
"Yes, my dear, you will." He started to walk once more, but she remained where she was, feet planted firmly on the ground.  
  
"I won't," she repeated.  
  
He sighed, a long-suffering sigh, and tightened his grip on her side. She flinched, not appreciating the feeling of fingernails digging into her flesh, or fingers squeezing her kidney, and started walking once again, submissive.  
  
A/N: She hasn't started playing her game yet. But she will. In the next chapter. No worries. 


	7. Seven

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
A/N: This chapter is going to be fun...  
  
He smirked as she ceased her struggling, and proceeded to guide her down the hall to his own room.  
  
"It's nice to see that you're learning obedience, Virginia," he remarked, opening the door to his room and pushing her through.  
  
Once more, she stuck out her tongue in response.  
  
As she turned away from him, Ginny noted that his room was quite a bit larger than her own; she also noted that her duffel and wand were laying in the open on a desk in a corner on the other side of the room.  
  
Brown eyes wide with horror, she took in the fact that the zipper of the main compartment was open, along with the zippers of each of the other three pockets. She dashed over to her belongings, and took in the fact that her things were thrown haphazardly into the duffel, before her small hand darted out to grab her wand.  
  
Draco watched with amusement as she brought her hand to her mouth as though she had burned her fingers. He had, naturally, placed a spell around the items on the desk to prevent her from retrieving them.  
  
She was sucking on her fingers, wincing in pain, and he sauntered over, the patented Draco Malfoy Smirk plastered on his lips.  
  
She removed her fingers from her mouth, and whirled on him as he came to stand behind her. They were a few feet apart, so he had lost the imposing advantage that his height and build brought, but he was still an evil git who had a wand, in Ginny's eyes, and therefore she would have to tread lightly.  
  
Perhaps, she thought, it was time to start her game.  
  
"Did you honestly think I would leave your things unprotected, Virginia?" Draco asked mildly, reaching out and grasping her hand to examine her wounded fingers. She flinched in pain as he ran a finger lightly over the burned tips.  
  
"No," she conceded, "but it was worth a try."  
  
He brought her hand to his lips, and gently kissed her fingertips, his lips barely brushing her skin. His eyes never left hers, and she felt once again those delicious shivers running up and down her spine.  
  
A seductive smile curled her lips, and Ginny moved closer to him, sliding her free hand up his abs and splaying her fingers out over his chest. She couldn't help but notice that his body was extremely well built. But then, she supposed, as she felt her fingers being raised to his lips again, five years of playing Quidditch would probably do that.  
  
He felt her hand on his chest, and his smirk grew, if possible, even slyer. He let his tongue slide over one of her fingers, and Ginny sighed softly in contentment.  
  
He slid his hand around to the small of her back, bringing her closer still, and dropped her fingers to tip her chin upwards. Draco's head dipped down, and he kissed her lips softly, the action the exact opposite of the kiss he had forced upon her earlier.  
  
After a moment, he pulled away, a somewhat puzzled look on his face; she hadn't fought it – she had practically invited it. Ginny smiled coyly, before pulling away from him, and turning back to the desk where her bag was so innocently lying.  
  
She sighed as though disappointed, and turned away, her face mirroring the feeling expressed in the sigh. He arched a brow, quite unsure of what was going on. Ginny caught a glimpse of his expression in the corner of her eyes, and inwardly applauded herself for her acting skills.  
  
"I'm tired," she said suddenly, folding her arms beneath her breasts and turning back to him, the petulant pout once again on her lips.  
  
"And your point is?"  
  
"I want to go to sleep."  
  
"By all means, be my guest," Draco said, gesturing suggestively towards the only bed in the room.  
  
"I'm not sleeping in this!" Ginny exclaimed, fingering the blue silk that shrouded her willowy form, and looking at him as though he were quite retarded.  
  
"Well, you can sleep in your knickers if you want..." He replied, noting that she hadn't said anything about the fact that he had pretty much propositioned her.  
  
She thought about it for a moment, before shaking her head.  
  
"My pajamas would be more comfortable," she stated.  
  
"I do believe, Virginia, that your pajamas are in your bag."  
  
"So?" She asked, eyes wide and innocent.  
  
"I don't intend to remove the spell on your things any time soon, my dear," Draco explained exasperatedly.  
  
"But... but..." Ginny sniffed, fake tears welling in her eyes.  
  
"You know," he pointed out, "you didn't seem this upset earlier."  
  
"That's because I was angry."  
  
"And you aren't any more?"  
  
"Well," she sniffed again, letting a few tears run down her cheeks, "I am, but I've had a long day, and all I want to do is sleep, and you won't let me have my pajamas, and you won't let me go back to my room, and you won't give me my things, and I'm really quite tired, and I JUST WANT TO GO HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOME!" She wailed, stamping her foot and trying not to laugh at the helpless expression that crossed Draco's face at the sight of her tears.  
  
He truly had no idea what to do. He'd never had to deal with a female in this state. He had to admit, though, that she looked quite intriguing when she was upset. So vulnerable...  
  
She wiped her eyes, trying to stem the flow of fake tears, sniffled, and then collapsed into one of the two chairs in the room, letting her head fall in her hands.  
  
"It's," sniff, "so horrible," sniff, "because I," sniff, "came on this holiday to have fun," sniff, "and now on my first day here," sniff, "my whole holiday," sniff, "is ruined!"  
  
Draco watched in astounded silence, as she continued to sob. With a grumble, he did the only thing he could think of, and walked towards the desk where her things lay. She looked up at him from between her fingers, careful not to let him see her watching. He removed the spell, reached into her bag, and withdrew her shower kit and pajamas, and threw them at her before replacing the spell.  
  
The nightgown hit her in the face, the shower kit landed with a loud thump at her feet, and Ginny pretended to be startled out of her misery.  
  
"Wh-what's this?" She stuttered, sniffling and looking at the slinky pool of black satin and lace now clutched in her hand.  
  
"Pajamas. Now go change. Bathroom's through there," he pointed a finger at a closed door.  
  
Her eyes lit up, and Ginny grabbed the large kit by her feet, and stood. She rushed over to Draco, and gave him a kiss on the cheek, before hurrying to the bathroom and locking the door.  
  
Once inside, she snickered to herself at her genius and how easily he fell for it, before methodically removing her clothes.  
  
Once stripped down to the lacy black boy-short panties and push-up bra that had been under her dress, Ginny opened her shower kit, pulled out her brush, and began running it through her hair in long, slow strokes. Soon, her hair hung pin straight and shiny down to her shoulder blades, and not a single tangle was hidden in the smooth locks.  
  
She peered at herself in the mirror a moment, contemplating whether or not to leave her hair down or tie it up, before deciding on the latter. Small fingers rooted around in the shower kit once more, before pulling out a handful of bobby pins and hair elastics. It took a while, but Ginny finally managed to put her hair into something simple but alluring, without getting it all tangled. A miraculous feat, and one necessary for her game.  
  
As she pondered this thought, Ginny shuddered slightly; seducing Draco Malfoy. Her brothers – not to mention her parents and Harry and Hermione – would kill her, if they ever found out. And she didn't intend on letting them find out. Or perhaps, she considered, they would think it a great joke, if they knew all the circumstances.  
  
She brushed her teeth, washed her face, and fixed her make-up before changing into her pajamas. Recalling the state that the contents of her duffel had been in, Ginny shuddered again at the thought of Malfoy with his Slytherin paws all over her things. She made a mental note to thoroughly wash everything, as soon as she got it all back.  
  
He collapsed onto the bed when she locked the bathroom door behind her, and stared at the ceiling. She was so... unpredictable, he thought, recalling her varied emotions and rapid mood changes during the day. To tell the truth, he found her to be a fascinating creature, and honestly wondered how he had overlooked her finer points during the five years he had known her.  
  
Of course, he considered, he hadn't bothered to try and see the finer points in the youngest Weasley, for exactly that reason: she was a Weasley. But now... His mind turned back to when he had last seen her, at the Leaving Feast at Hogwarts in June. She had seemed small and mousy then, not all that curvy, nor as feisty as she was now.  
  
She looked at herself in the mirror once more, noting with satisfaction that the nightgown had grown a little short, and the boy short panties were fairly visible. She could also tell that either she had grown, cleavage wise, or the nightgown had shrunk, for it was a little tighter than she remembered around the bust. Perfect.  
  
He heard the bathroom door open, and turned his head to look in the direction of the sound. What he saw made him gulp. She looked every bit the temptress, begging him to take her and forbidding him to do so at the same time. The small slip of black satin that covered her upper half showed off the beautiful cleavage he had caught a glimpse of earlier, and it was just short enough at the bottom to reveal her wonderful ass in a pair of lacy knickers. He gulped again, and felt a certain stiffness in his pants.  
  
Vaguely, he noted that she had fixed her hair, and redone her makeup, but most of his conscious thought had drifted to getting her into his bed.  
  
A/N: Tee hee. 


	8. Eight

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
She was quite pleased with his reaction to her appearance, and turned the amused smile that threatened to ruin everything into a sly and seductive curl of her lips. She left the doorway of the bathroom, and sauntered over to where Draco lay on the bed, his gray eyes fixed quite hungrily on her ample bosom.  
  
She got to where his feet were hanging off the end of the mattress, and climbed onto the bed, straddling his waist. Ginny let most of her weight fall on her knees, which were resting quite comfortably on the duvet cover, and leant over his upper torso, splaying her fingers over his chest. She dipped her head to the side of his neck, and kissed it softly, her tongue playing with his soft porcelain flesh.  
  
Sliding her fingers over his chest, she let her hands move to his arms, pinning them down at the wrists. She licked his jaw line, from chin to ear, and bit his neck playfully.  
  
Her administrations - more the fact that she was straddling him than anything - had Draco groaning.  
  
"Mmmm..." she purred in his ear, "you taste so good..."  
  
"I have plenty more tasty bits," he managed to reply, as she left her biting of his neck and turned her attentions upwards, raining feather soft kisses over his face before running her tongue over his lips, gently kissing the side of his mouth.  
  
Perhaps, he thought hazily, as she kissed his lips lightly, tauntingly, he wouldn't have to figure out a way to get her in his bed.  
  
She nibbled on his lower lip, biting down gently, then harder before releasing him. She released his arms, and sat back, resting more of her weight on him. His breathing was quickened, his muscles taut, and she could feel his arousal, judging by the stiffening in his pants near her backside.  
  
He didn't want her to stop. But she released him nonetheless, and he let a soft groan of disappointment pass his lips.  
  
"What was that for?" He asked, his voice not as smooth as it normally was. Ginny was quite pleased with her work.  
  
"Wasn't it obvious?" She asked, pouting once more, looking quite put-out.  
  
"Not really," he replied, reaching up and brushing a stray lock of hair from her face.  
  
"It was a good night kiss," she explained, before slithering off him and landing lightly on her feet on the floor. She had returned to the bathroom before he could say anything, and emerged a moment later carrying her shower kit – which looked considerably larger than it had been earlier; he surmised that she had stuffed her clothes in it – and her shoes.  
  
Rather than depositing the items on a chair, as he had presumed she would do, Ginny started towards the door to the hall.  
  
"Where do you think you're going?" Draco inquired, sitting up and watching her quizzically.  
  
"Back to my room," she answered, not looking back.  
  
"I don't recall giving you permission to leave, Virginia."  
  
She turned, and fixed him with a sweet smile.  
  
"Well, I'm not staying here."  
  
"Yes, as a matter of fact, you are," he replied, approaching her. She was a lot smaller, he noticed, without her shoes.  
  
"But if I stay here, I won't get any sleep," she purred suggestively, looking up at him through her lashes.  
  
He chuckled, and grasped her chin with his hand.  
  
"Who said you needed sleep?" He asked, capturing her lips in a kiss.  
  
She smiled against his mouth, and parted her lips when his tongue brushed her lower lip, begging entry. His tongue slid into the warmth of her mouth, and she let hers slide into his, as the kiss deepened.  
  
Much to Ginny's vaguely realized horror, she was quite enjoying snogging Draco Malfoy. He released her chin, wrapping both of his hands around her waist, bringing her closer to him. Her arms slithered up his chest, and she wrapped them tight around his neck, bringing her lips closer still to his.  
  
He ended the kiss, releasing her mouth, and causing a small moan of displeasure to leave her lips. He smiled smugly, his hands still wrapped around her waist.  
  
"Still want to leave?" He asked, sliding his hands down to her rear, and squeezing lightly, causing a small gasp to part her lips.  
  
"Yes," she answered coyly, unwrapping her arms from about his neck.  
  
He sighed, and released her. Now that he had 'seen her in action' per se, when she was willing, he couldn't bring himself to take her if she was unwilling. He could hear his father's voice, and his own voice, inside his head, informing him that he was being a complete idiot, and she would be just as good of a fuck unwilling as willing.  
  
She stood on her tiptoes, as his hands released her, and bit his neck once more.  
  
"I'll see you in the morning," she whispered in his ear, before pulling away, picking up her things, and leaving his room.  
  
A/N: It's a short chapter, I know, and I'm sorry. But the next one is sort of... monumental. And it sort of has to start when they're both alone in their own rooms. So...  
  
Anyway. Mucho gracias to all of my wonderful reviewers, whom I love. *Beams* 


	9. Nine

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
He watched the door close behind her, and stood rooted to the spot for a moment. She had been his, for a few brief minutes. And he hadn't even had to do anything.  
  
Groaning in disappointment and frustration, Draco moved to one of the two armchairs in the room and dropped down, suddenly exhausted. It had certainly been an interesting first day in Paris, he thought with a sigh.  
  
His thoughts strayed to the redheaded vixen he had just let out of his room. She had been furious, then distraught, playful, and coy, all in rapid succession. It was enough to make a man's head spin. As he tried to sort out exactly what had happened in his room – for something had to have happened to the youngest Weasley, or she wouldn't have done what she did – Draco decided that delving into the female psyche would require serious help.  
  
His gaze traveled around the room, finally settling on the minibar in the corner. He got out of his chair, rather quickly for someone who was exhausted, and made his way to the little silver compartment. Pulling open the door, he looked inside, and was quite disappointed. No brandy. Just a lot of beer, some sodas, and a few coolers.  
  
"Damn, this place has no class," he muttered, before grabbing his room key and wallet, and heading out of the room. Apparently if he wanted brandy, he'd have to go to the store in the hotel lobby – he'd seen some in there when he'd been looking for a pack of chewing gum.  
  
The door swung shut behind her, and Ginny walked slowly down the hall, already deep in thought. She took no notice of the look she was getting from the guy from room service, who was staring quite fixedly at her rear. On a normal day, she wouldn't be caught dead in her pajamas in a hotel corridor. But today had been anything but normal.  
  
She reached her room, and rummaged around in her shower kit for a few moments in search of her room key, found it, and pushed open the door of her room. It was as she had left it, her clothes lying in a heap on the floor in front of the bed, the light on in the bathroom, and the water running in the tap.  
  
She sighed, dropped her things on the only chair in the room, and turned off the tap. She left the light on, for the moment at least, and dropped onto her bed, quite exhausted from the day's events. Her mind traveled down the hall, to the room she had just left, and Ginny no longer thought of sleeping.  
  
It was intriguing, and revolting, she thought, that she had quite enjoyed snogging Draco, and, had he asked her to do more, she probably would have. She wasn't exactly sure why, but she couldn't get over the fact that he hadn't seemed disgusted by her. She was a Weasley, after all.  
  
Her conscious told her that he had probably just wanted some, and didn't care whom he got it from, and that she was probably going through withdrawal herself, but subconsciously, the thought wasn't the same. Perhaps, she thought, it was time to delve into the male psyche.  
  
With that daunting thought ahead of her, Ginny let her gaze fall to the silver minibar in the corner. Well, she thought, vodka was always good for scary projects. And trying to figure out the male psyche, well, that certainly qualified as scary.  
  
She pushed herself off the bed, and padded over to the humming fridge. She opened the door, and peered inside, not finding any vodka – just soda, beer, and coolers.  
  
"Damn it," she muttered, "how's a girl supposed to loosen up if all they've got is beer?"  
  
Balancing on the balls of her feet, Ginny scanned her brain for somewhere she could get some vodka cheap.  
  
"Hotel shop," she said after a moment, with a snap of her fingers. Standing again, she grabbed a terry cloth robe from the bathroom, wrapped it tight around her waist and tied the belt in a knot, and grabbed her money pouch and room key from the mass of clothes on her floor. She checked how much money she had, and, when satisfied with the amount, left her room.  
  
The halls were deserted, and Ginny had just pressed the button for the lift when she heard a door close somewhere back the way she had come.  
  
He let the door slam shut behind him, and spotted someone in a plain white robe waiting for the elevators. Familiar smirk on his face, Draco sauntered down the hall towards the lifts.  
  
She turned, curious as to who else might be out at this time of night. Well. Interesting. Draco was leaving his room. And he, unlike she, was fully dressed. Ginny pondered this, and decided he was either going to find a hooker, or wanted booze.  
  
He raised a brow at her appearance, quite amazed at the fact that she hadn't gotten dressed if she was going to leave the room. By the time he was right behind her – or in front of her, now, as she was facing him – the lift doors opened, and she turned away again.  
  
She knew he would follow her into the lift, and wasn't mistaken. He stood beside her, smirking down from his height of six feet four inches, and she didn't bother to look up. Instead, she punched the button to take them to the lobby, and folded her arms across her chest.  
  
"What, not happy to see me Virginia?" Draco asked, with a fake pout.  
  
"Not particularly," she replied, again not looking up.  
  
"Why ever not?"  
  
She turned now, eyes sparkling with feigned lust that, fortunately for her, he didn't recognize.  
  
"Because I'm afraid," she whispered.  
  
"Afraid of what?"  
  
"You."  
  
"Me?"  
  
"You."  
  
"Why, may I ask, are you afraid of me?"  
  
She moved closer to him, running a hand over his chest, and fingering the buttons on his shirt.  
  
"You're so big... and strong... and dangerous..."  
  
He smiled smugly, and was about to respond, when the lift ceased its downward motion. She let go of him quickly, and left the elevator as though nothing had happened.  
  
Draco watched her for a moment, and it was only when the lift doors started to close did he remember his reason for being there at all. He wasn't surprised to see that the few people in the hotel lobby were looking at Ginny with mixed expressions of amusement and appreciation. He was, however, surprised to see that she was headed in the direction of the hotel shop.  
  
He followed her inside, noting with interest that she didn't dare turn though he knew that she knew he was behind her.  
  
She knew of only one thing he would be looking for at the hotel shop: liquor. Approaching the small corner of the store where alcohol ranged from the most expensive champagne to the cheapest of beers, she looked around for a moment, lost.  
  
"Need some help?" He breathed in her ear, noting the blank expression on her face.  
  
"Vodka," she mumbled, staring at the amazingly vast display of hard alcohol.  
  
"Vodka?" He was surprised, and straightened to examine the display.  
  
"Vodka," she repeated firmly, with a slight nod of her head.  
  
He sauntered towards the far left of the racks, where an abundance of clear liquids resided in various sized bottles.  
  
Interesting, he thought, she wanted vodka. He perused the labels for a while, before removing a large bottle of clear and innocent looking liquid from the shelf.  
  
She reached to take the bottle of vodka, as he moved down the shelves to the amber colored elixirs, but he didn't give it to her. Instead, she watched him look carefully through the selection once more, before picking up a bottle of expensive looking brandy.  
  
Quickly, before she could object, he had paid for both bottles, and was leaving the store. She watched him in dumb silence, before following quickly, having to take two strides to one of his in order to catch up. He reached the elevators before her, and was already inside one of the lifts when she reached him.  
  
The doors closed behind her, and the lift began its ascent. Draco smirked at the angry expression on her face, and pulled the bottle of vodka out of the clear plastic bag.  
  
"D'you want it?" He asked, holding the liquor just out of her reach.  
  
"Yes," she pouted, trying to grab the bottle.  
  
"What will you do to get it?" He asked suggestively, raising a brow as she leapt for the bottle he was now holding above her head.  
  
"But that's not fair!" She whined.  
  
"All's fair in love, war, and liquor."  
  
"Nu-uh!"  
  
"'Fraid so."  
  
"But you didn't have to buy that for me! I would have bought it myself!"  
  
"Do you think they would have sold it to you, Virginia?"  
  
"Well..."  
  
"Trust me, they wouldn't have."  
  
"But..."  
  
"Now, if I give this to you, what will you do for me?"  
  
"I dunno, just gimme!" She jumped again, and managed to grab the bottle out of his grasp.  
  
"Tisk, tisk," he chastised, "if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were a bit of an alcoholic."  
  
"But you don't know any better," she replied with a grin, as the lift slowed and the doors opened.  
  
Before he could respond, she had darted out of the elevator and down the hall, carrying the bottle of vodka by its neck.  
  
He watched her go, shaking his head in puzzlement, before leaving the lift himself. The door of her room was already closed by the time he reached it; he could hear her giggling on the other side. Sighing, he continued down the corridor to his own room, and disappeared inside with his own bottle of liquor.  
  
A/N: *snicker* It's going to get kinda interesting from here on... But I shall leave you hanging as to what happens next, 'cause I feel like being an evil git. 


	10. Ten

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
She flopped onto her bed, laughing merrily at the look of surprise that had crossed his face at her last remark.  
  
Wiping away the tears of laughter that threatened to pour down her cheeks, Ginny examined the bottle of vodka he had purchased for her. Smirnoff. Not recognizing the name, she opened the bottle and took a tentative sip, letting the liquor slide like fire down her throat.  
  
Shrugging her shoulder slightly, she took another sip, quite enjoying the beverage.  
  
Draco dropped wearily into one of the chairs in his room, and opened the bottle of brandy with a flourish. Unlike the redhead down the hall, he poured the amber liquid into a glass before drinking, having been drilled in etiquette since birth.  
  
He too, however, took a tentative first sip, letting the beverage sit on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. It didn't take long, after the first sip, for him to finish the glass and pour another. He downed that one quickly as well, and it was only after he had ingested four of the small hotel glasses half full that he began to consider the task ahead.  
  
Ginny had swallowed rather a lot of the alcohol, and her mind was feeling pleasantly blank, before she started her musings. Draco hadn't hurt her this evening, she figured, and that was enough cause for her to be wary of the older boy. He had actually let her leave his room; if he'd been planning something, he would have simply used a locking charm to keep her inside.  
  
She hadn't been forced to do anything, other than accompany him to dinner, and that hadn't been too bad. He hadn't embarrassed her in public, nor had he coerced her into doing anything she really didn't want to do. He had been polite, not counting the few times when his ire rose, and he hadn't propositioned her, except for when they were back in his room.  
  
"He's up to something," she murmured, replacing the cap on the now half- empty bottle of vodka.  
  
He pondered what, exactly, was wrong with the woman. She had, not two and a half hours ago, been angry enough to kill him, had been terrified of him that afternoon, and then had nearly let him in her pants when she got to his room.  
  
She hadn't done anything to publicly humiliate him, nor had she attempted any sort of escape when they had been together. Other than when he 'dropped' his wand that evening, she hadn't tried to steal anything of his with which to bargain for her things, and she had seemed to quite enjoy exchanging insults with him.  
  
"She's up to something," he murmured, leaning back in his chair.  
  
With that revelation, Ginny's intoxicated mind promptly began to tell her that she'd thought enough for one night, and she settled down in bed. It was only as she was drifting off to sleep that she realized she was supposed to owl her parents tomorrow and tell them how her first day in Paris had been.  
  
"Shit," she mumbled, rolling over in bed and turning on the lamp. "I can't very well tell them that he's here, or they'd bring me straight home. Either that, or they'd send someone to kill the git for stealing my stuff."  
  
It was then that it occurred to her that she didn't particularly want to see Draco dead.  
  
"Nooooooo..." she whined, her voice heavy with sleep, "I can't be falling for Malfoy!"  
  
He sighed, having finished his sixth glass of brandy, and replaced the cap on the bottle. Placing the empty glass beside the bottle, Draco rose from his chair, stretching. He wandered into the bathroom, and noticed that it still smelled faintly of her perfume. Inhaling the intoxicating scent deeply, he opened his shower kit, brushed his teeth, washed his face, and left the bathroom. Pulling off his shirt, shoes, socks and trousers, Draco climbed into bed in his boxer shorts, and turned off the light.  
  
He was just drifting off, the brandy speeding up the sleep process, when he recalled that she would need clean clothes the next day. Smiling wickedly through the dark, he pictured her standing in the hallway outside his room, begging for clothes.  
  
Sinister smile still in place, he fell asleep, quite eager to see the morning arrive.  
  
She woke to sunlight pouring through the open curtains of her hotel room, and opened her eyes blearily. Momentarily disoriented, as one generally is when waking up in a hotel room, she rubbed her eyes and looked around, trying to get her bearings. Sleep laden gaze drifting towards the half- empty bottle of vodka, the previous day's events came rushing back.  
  
"And I was so hoping that was all a dream," she groaned, rubbing her eyes again. Stifling a yawn, Ginny crawled out of bed and stumbled to the bathroom.  
  
It was only after she had taken a cold shower to wake up that she realized she didn't have any clothes. Wrapping the terry cloth bathrobe around her still-damp body, Ginny left the bathroom with a strangled shriek of rage.  
  
Auburn tresses dripping steadily into the cloth of the robe, Ginny left her room in hopes of obtaining clothing from the wretched blonde boy who was currently in possession of her things.  
  
Draco was awakened by a pounding on the door of his hotel room. Groaning, he rolled out of bed and landed quite soundly on his rear, with a loud thump and a string of inventive profanities. He stood, brushing a stray lock of platinum blonde from his eyes, and dragged on a pair of trousers, not particularly wanting to be seen in his boxers.  
  
Wandering over to the door, he pulled it open to reveal a furious-looking Virginia Weasley.  
  
"Good morning, Virginia," he drawled, mercury gaze drifting over her robed form. She was dripping wet; he gathered she had just gotten out of the shower.  
  
As his gaze traveled over her apparel, hers wandered over his chest – which was pleasantly devoid of clothing. Gulping slightly at the sight of his half-naked body, Ginny tore her gaze from his really quite attractive muscles to his eyes, which were glimmering with amusement.  
  
"G-good morning," she stumbled, gulping again.  
  
"Please, come in," he invited, standing back from the door to let her in.  
  
"T-thank you," she muttered, stepping past him and into the hotel room.  
  
Draco watched with a wicked smile as she dropped onto the edge of his unmade bed, and stared at her duffel bag, which sat untouched on the desk.  
  
"Is there something I can help you with, Virginia?" He asked after a moment, leaning against the wall.  
  
"I need clothes," she stated, looking over at him, a spark of anger flashing in her eyes.  
  
"You need clothes, do you?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"What if I don't feel like giving you any clothes, Virginia?"  
  
"Damn it, Draco!"  
  
"Language, my dear."  
  
Ginny sighed, exasperated.  
  
"Please?"  
  
"Please what, darling?"  
  
"Please can I have my clothes?"  
  
"Give me one good reason why I should give you your clothes."  
  
"Because I certainly can't go around wearing nothing, now can I?"  
  
"You have clothes in your room, don't you? The ones you were wearing yesterday?"  
  
"DRACO! You can't honestly believe that I would wear a set of clothes two days in a row!"  
  
He smirked, pushing himself from the wall, and sauntered to the desk. Removing the spell, he started to sift through the contents of the duffel before throwing a handful of clothing at the pouting redhead seated on his bed.  
  
She caught the ball of fabric before it hit her head, and sorted through the garments, laying each one on his bed as she examined it.  
  
"You don't think I'm going to wear this, do you?" Ginny asked after a moment, glaring at him.  
  
He cast a glance back at the clothing laid out on the bed, a cruel smirk crawling over his lips as he did so. Replacing the spell over the desk, he strolled over to where she sat, pouting, and lifted her chin.  
  
"You either wear it, or you wear what you've already got," he answered.  
  
"But..."  
  
"Ah, ah, ah, Virginia, no whining."  
  
Pouting still, she grabbed her clothes and stood, wrenching her chin out of his grasp as she did so.  
  
"I need some money, too."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because I'm going shopping."  
  
"You went shopping yesterday."  
  
"Only for a little while. Besides, that shop had a lot of things that I wanted, but I couldn't buy them 'cause I didn't have enough money in my purse."  
  
Draco sighed. Gorgeous she may have been, but she really was a confusing wench.  
  
"Why do you need to go shopping?"  
  
"Because I need more clothes."  
  
He sighed again. What was it with women and clothes?  
  
"Just... stay here. I'm going to have a shower."  
  
"But..."  
  
"I'll take you shopping afterwards."  
  
"But..."  
  
"And you might want to get dressed."  
  
"But I don't want you to take me shopping!"  
  
"Why?" He raised a brow, surprised.  
  
"Because."  
  
"Because why, Virginia?"  
  
"Just because."  
  
Sighing yet again in exasperation, Draco pulled out his wand, placed a locking charm on the door of the hotel room, and walked to the bathroom. Glancing over his shoulder, he saw she was still standing in the same spot, pouting.  
  
Shaking his head, he closed and locked the bathroom door behind him. Soon, she heard the water running, and Ginny groaned in frustration. She cast another appraising glance over the lump of clothes in her hands, and sighed deeply.  
  
"Stupid bugger," she muttered, dropping her robe and pulling on her clothes.  
  
Surveying herself in the mirror, Ginny grumbled in distaste; Draco really had no fashion sense. Or, rather, he had no idea about how she liked to dress; what she liked to wear with what. In her mind, she looked like a hooker. No doubt Draco would appreciate her uniform.  
  
She heard, faintly the sound of the water cease, and dropped once more onto the edge of the bed, glaring at her reflection.  
  
Her back was to him, when he left the bathroom, but she saw him in the mirror. He smirked, seeing her apparel, and strode over to her, a towel wrapped around his waist. He stood in front of her, his eyes traveling over her body, and nodded his approval.  
  
Her gaze locked with is, and she fingered one of the pleats in her skirt.  
  
"You can't expect me to go out like this."  
  
"Oh? And why is that?"  
  
"Because I look like a fucking hooker."  
  
"Language, darling. And you look smashing; no need to worry."  
  
"So in your esteemed opinion, I don't look like I just stepped off the cover of some porn mag?"  
  
"Of course not. What gave you the idea that you look like you've just stepped out of a magazine?"  
  
"The fact that this skirt is about four inches too short."  
  
She stood, so he could see the way the skirt hung just barely over her rear, and tapped her foot in irritation.  
  
"My dear, if you didn't intend to wear the garment, why did you bring it?"  
  
"Because, you moron, I generally wear this skirt over a pair of jeans or something. It's called style."  
  
Draco shrugged, unperturbed. She glared, usual petulant pout firmly in place on her lips.  
  
"Do you have any other problems with your apparel, or can I get dressed?" He inquired, raising a brow.  
  
She noticed for the first time that he was wearing nothing more than a towel, and felt a blush creep steadily up her cheeks.  
  
"Go get dressed. I'll complain more later."  
  
Smirking, Draco left her and returned to the bathroom, after grabbing a pile of clothes from his suitcase. She heard the bathroom door lock shut, and examined herself in the mirror once again. The skirt, if it could be called that, barely reached the tops of her thighs. The red plaid was accentuated by a white dress shirt that was entirely too tight, in Ginny's eyes, and a pair of white socks that reached over her knees.  
  
"I look like a fucking naughty school girl," Ginny muttered, glaring at her reflection in distaste.  
  
Turning away, she spotted a pair of shoes lying on the ground; Draco had dropped them earlier, rather than throw them at her. Bending down, she grabbed them, and caught her reflection in the mirror out of the corner of her eye. She had a clear view of her black knickers.  
  
"Bugger. Better remember not to bend down at all today," she remarked, sitting on the edge of the bed and pulling on her shoes.  
  
The bathroom door opened, and Draco stepped out, looking rather like he had last night, dressed all in black. His hair was slicked back, and Ginny thought for a moment, recalling how his hair had looked earlier.  
  
"You know, your hair looks better when it's not all slicked back like that," she commented, rising from her seat on his bed.  
  
"And your point is?"  
  
"I was just making an observation, love. Now, can we please go? 'Cause in case you haven't noticed, I kind of have to make myself look a little more presentable," Ginny retorted, fingering her now dry hair.  
  
Draco sighed, and removed the locking spell from his door. Grinning, Ginny grabbed the red beret that completed her ensemble, placed it on her head, and left the room, Draco following closely.  
  
A/N: Sorry this chapter is kinda long, but I couldn't really find somewhere to cut it off. Here will have to do.  
  
My thanks to all of my reviewers, whom I love.  
  
And, just to warn all of you, updates may be a little slower in coming, 'cause school is starting back up again on Monday, and I have classes and such, which generally means homework. Which means I don't have as much time to spend writing fanfics. *sniffle* 


	11. Eleven

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
They made the short walk down to Ginny's room, Ginny walking in front, Draco behind to ensure she didn't try to escape.  
  
She opened the door, and went inside, sorely tempted to close the door in his face. Fighting temptation, Ginny allowed the blonde entrance to her chambers, watched him pick his way across the room, over the small scatter of clothes and bed sheets, and lower himself languidly into a chair. Shaking her beret-clad head, Ginny disappeared into the bathroom, deep in thought of some way to get revenge on the insufferable git known as Draco Malfoy.  
  
"Damn it, Gin, how're you going to get out of this?" She asked herself, tossing the beret on the counter and dragging a brush through her hair.  
  
When at last her hair hung pin straight down her back in a shining curtain of blood red, Ginny replaced the beret like a crown, and applied her makeup after brushing her teeth.  
  
"Damn women take so bloody long in the bathroom," Draco muttered, watching the unmoving bathroom door from his vantage point.  
  
Smirking at her reflection, as she completed the painting of her lips, Ginny turned away and opened the bathroom door. She stepped out, turning off the light and pulling shut the door behind her, and turned to face Draco.  
  
He stood, as she returned once more to the room, and sauntered towards her, mercury gaze glittering with sadistic amusement at her red lips curled into a pout.  
  
"I look like I should be on the cover of a fetish magazine," Ginny whined, as he stopped in front of her.  
  
He chuckled, and offered his arm.  
  
"Shall we?"  
  
Knowing better than to bother arguing, Ginny accepted his arm and allowed the smirking seventeen-year-old to lead her out of the room and down the hall.  
  
"I'm gonna have to get you back for this," she muttered, still pouting.  
  
Again, he chuckled, and they reached the elevators, Ginny constantly reaching down and pulling on the hem of her skirt, or else adjusting her shirt in an attempt to make it a little less... flaunting. Her efforts were in vain, however, and as they stepped into an elevator occupied by a group of young men Ginny presumed to be about Draco's age, she was quite aware of their eyes tracing her body.  
  
Furious and embarrassed, she purposely trod on Draco's foot, the square heel of her shoe applying just enough pressure, to Ginny's distaste, to catch his attention. He looked down on her, taunting smirk still firmly in place, and slid his arm possessively around her waist, bringing her closer to his side. She pouted, knowing that he knew that wasn't what she had meant for him to do, and then an odd – but daring – thought entered her mind.  
  
Perhaps...  
  
She wriggled free of Draco's grasp, before he got the chance to bind her to him further, whipped around, and pounced – almost literally – on the closest person other than Draco. The rather lucky male was taken completely by surprise, as her lips descended on his, and her skilled and teasing hands ran over his chest and upwards, eventually tangling in his hair.  
  
Much to the surprise of one Virginia Weasley, her new 'friend' kissed her back, his tongue running along her lower lip, begging for entrance. She granted his request, and parted her lips, her own tongue darting out to meet his.  
  
Draco was, to say the least, livid. His new plaything – as he had decided to call her – was kissing someone else. In front of him. Hell, she was kissing a guy she didn't even know in front of half a dozen people! Growling, as the elevator started to slow and eventually came to a stop, Draco grabbed his new redheaded toy and pulled her away from her friend, out into the lobby of the hotel.  
  
Just as she was really beginning to have fun, Ginny felt an arm snake around her waist and drag her away from her entertainment. She nearly stumbled, almost giving the entire lobby a perfect view of her knickers, but managed to catch her footing just in time. Looking over her shoulder, she sent the dazed and confused American teenager a wink and a sly grin, before turning to face her tormentor.  
  
Draco dragged her into a small alcove just off the main lobby, and pressed her back against the wall, his hands clamped firmly around her wrists.  
  
"What the fuck was that?" He hissed, mercury gaze glinting with fury.  
  
"What was what?" Ginny asked innocently, noting that his grip on her wrists got tighter with her words.  
  
"You know damn well what I mean, Virginia."  
  
"Touchy, touchy."  
  
Draco was sorely tempted to slap the insolent little wench around, but restrained himself, knowing it would do him no good to ruin his plaything.  
  
"Let me explain something to you, Virginia darling; I don't take too kindly to other people playing with my toys." His voice was deadly calm, and Ginny shivered at the sound, cursing her body all the time for the betraying motion.  
  
"I'm afraid I don't understand, Draco dear," her voice, on the other hand, was sickly sweet and held a veiled threat.  
  
"You're mine, Virginia. A toy, a plaything, but mine nonetheless."  
  
She laughed openly in his face at this statement, and he waited with little patience for the sound to stop. When finally she ceased, the cold and utterly mirthless echo of her laughter fading down the hall, her eyes glittered with cold, sadistic pleasure.  
  
"I belong to no one, Draco love," was her response to his statement, her voice amused.  
  
It was his turn to be amused, and the chuckle that left his lips was the same as that he had uttered the previous day when he had cornered her in her room.  
  
She shivered again, and her eyes widened in fright at the sound of footsteps coming towards them down the hall. He must have heard too, for his head dipped low to her ear, and as far as Ginny could tell, to any onlooker, it would appear as though the two teenagers were having a wonderful snogfest  
  
"We'll discuss this later," he hissed in her ear, as the footsteps passed quickly, a small cough of disgust reaching their ears as the woman passed.  
  
He released her then, letting her wrists fall to her sides as he stepped away from his now thoroughly frightened toy. She looked up at him with wide eyes, knowing that she was most certainly going to be in a rather large amount of trouble that evening, and nodded her head in acquiescence, though her response was unneeded.  
  
An indulgent smirk formed on his lips, and Draco slipped his arm around her waist, leading his now docile temptress back to the lobby. She was scared, he could tell by her silence as they left the hotel and proceeded down the street, looking, if it weren't for the sullen expression on her face and the smug one on his face, very much like a young couple off to explore the most romantic city in the world.  
  
Much to Ginny's surprise, Draco led her to the very shop where she had purchased her dress and shoes the previous day. She was delighted, however, to see Marie standing behind the counter, and squirmed from Draco's grasp to greet her friend.  
  
He let her go, knowing it would do him no good to have Virginia appear to be with him against her will, and watched with slight impatience as the two girls hugged and exchanged pleasantries, before both turned back towards him. He noted at once the change in Virginia's eyes; the spark that had before been clouded with suppressed fury and panic was now glittering with delight, as she introduced her friend.  
  
Before Draco could turn on the patented Malfoy charm, Ginny was being whisked away by the salesgirl, who was throwing clothes into the redhead's arms as they traversed the distance from the front of the shop to the back.  
  
"Ooh! Gin! I absolutely love this! You've got to try it on."  
  
The redhead laughed, and conceded, as her friend tossed a gown of red silk onto the rapidly growing pile. When the two reached the back of the shop, where the fitting rooms were situated, Marie ushered Ginny inside one of the stalls, and sat down on a pouffe to watch the fashion show. Draco leant against the wall, wondering how long it was going to take to go through the massive pile of garments Ginny had acquired, and mentally guessing approximately how much this shopping trip was going to cost him.  
  
She emerged from the cubicle a moment later, an image of tempestuous, mysterious beauty in the red gown. He suppressed the urge to grab her and cart her back to his hotel room, as she twirled in front of the mirror, revealing that the back of the dress was nonexistent.  
  
Marie let out an envious sigh, and Ginny giggled, looking to Draco for his opinion. He nodded his head, the only action he could trust his body to make, and she beamed at him before disappearing back inside the change room.  
  
Seconds later, the halter-style dress was tossed over the door, landing in a neat tangle on the pouffe beside Marie. Ginny emerged again, following the silken projectile, this time clad in a flowing black skirt that reached her knees and a white halter trimmed in black. The same response as before was given by both members of her audience, and Ginny disappeared once more.  
  
This ritual repeated itself over the course of approximately ninety-five minutes, according to Draco's watch, as Ginny plowed her way through the pile of clothing. When she emerged at last, dressed once more in her own skirt and blouse, hair slightly ruffled from the constant changing of clothes, Draco breathed an inaudible sigh of relief.  
  
Both girls carted the clothing to the counter at the front of the store, and, just as Draco was withdrawing his wallet, they were off again, heading towards a small alcove with shelves full of shoes. Another half hour and three pairs of shoes later, Ginny was finally ready to depart, grinning wildly as Draco footed the bill for her new wardrobe.  
  
The two left the shop, Ginny laden down with her bags, Draco wondering exactly why he had volunteered to take her shopping and pay for it. Shaking his platinum blonde head, Draco pulled her into an alley way, making sure they were well hidden from prying muggle eyes. She was about to protest, when he pulled out his wand, pointed it at her bags, and effectively shrunk them to fit in his pocket.  
  
"Oh," she said, as he took the tiny parcels and dropped them into one of his pockets, the lot of them hardly big enough to make the fabric expand to accommodate them.  
  
He smirked at her surprised expression, before heading out of the alley, checking behind him to make sure she was following. They wandered down the street for a bit, eventually ending up in a men's clothing shop, where Draco was immediately assaulted by salesgirls who all seemed to know who he was. Ginny was conveniently ignored.  
  
Thinking it entirely odd, and not a bit pervy, that a shop selling men's clothing was staffed entirely by females, Ginny followed her blonde tormentor to the back of the room, as various women in different stages of swooning ran hither and thither, collecting various items of clothing.  
  
Shaking her head, nearly dislodging her precariously perched beret, Ginny dropped into a squashy black leather armchair, as Draco was ushered into a fitting room now stuffed full of Armani clothing. He emerged a few moments later, looking, in Ginny's professional opinion, drop dead gorgeous in a black suit, accented with a green silk shirt and silver tie.  
  
Her jaw dropped ever so slightly, and Ginny hurried to wipe the dazed expression off her face as Draco turned towards her. He arched a brow, a taunting and smug smirk curling his lips, and she knew at once that she hadn't succeeded in replacing her expression of wanting very much to jump his bones right then and there with something cool and reserved.  
  
"Shit," she muttered, as he sauntered back through the door of his change room, closing it behind him.  
  
She had a distinct feeling that he was getting back at her for something, or a combination of somethings, but what it was that he wanted revenge for was a mystery to the nearly drooling redhead. She knew that he knew he looked good, and she also knew that he knew that she knew he looked good. She also had a sinking feeling that he planned on prolonging her torture.  
  
"What do you think of this?" Came Draco's voice, interrupting Ginny's musings, and she looked up at the blonde.  
  
The trademark smirk was in place, and Ginny's suspicions were confirmed. Not daring to look at him for more than a few seconds, Ginny trusted herself only to nod her appreciation of his new outfit.  
  
So it went for nearly forty-five minutes, as Draco went through the various ensembles put together by the fawning females, before emerging in his own clothes with the new ones slung over his left arm, while his right hand dug in his pocket for his wallet.  
  
Ginny followed him to the front of the shop, where, to the delight of his fanclub, he purchased every item that had been picked out for him. Taking the three bags he was presented with, all full to bursting, Draco led a relieved-looking Ginny from the shop.  
  
Again, he turned down an alley and shrunk his packages, before slipping his arm around Ginny's waist and directing her down the street back towards the hotel.  
  
"I'm hungry," she stated, as they passed an outdoor café.  
  
"We'll go to lunch later."  
  
"But I'm hungry noooooooooooooooooooooooooow!" She whined, quite aware of the fact that she was swiftly raising his ire.  
  
"Too bad."  
  
"Draaaaaaaaaaacoooooooooooooooooooooooo!" She stomped her foot and folded her arms across her chest much like the school girl she resembled and was, causing a few people to look in their direction.  
  
Growling in frustration, as she had expected him to, Draco glowered down at the girl beside him. She was pouting, looking up at him through her lashes, and inwardly he groaned in longing.  
  
"We'll go to lunch later." He repeated his earlier statement, before starting to walk again, half expecting her to throw a temper tantrum.  
  
"Humph. You're nothing but a selfish brat. Don't care a thing for anybody else. It's all about you, you, and you." Her tone was sulky, as she allowed him to lead her through the doors and into the hotel lobby.  
  
His grip tightened on her abdomen, and Ginny frowned. In truth, she was merely trying to get back at him for trying to get back at her for something she didn't know she had done. Whining and sulking seemed a good way to irritate him.  
  
They took the elevator up to their floor, and Ginny followed obediently as he strolled down the hall to his room. Chancing a glance up at his face, she gulped, knowing she had gone a little too far in her goading; she'd forgotten about their discussion earlier, and the event of that morning.  
  
"Oops," she murmured to herself, as Draco closed and warded the door behind him, apparently not wanting her to get out, and not wanting the rest of the hotel to hear their 'discussion'.  
  
"Sit," he instructed, his back still to her.  
  
Meekly, wary of the tone of his voice, Ginny sat on the edge of the bed.  
  
He listened to the rustling of fabric as she obeyed his command, and pondered what exactly he was going to say to her. She was so... intriguing. Her moods, attitudes and manners changed at the drop of a hat; one minute she was a sly temptress, the next a whining five-year-old. She was fascinating. But he couldn't let her know that.  
  
So, an intimidating smirk on his face, Draco turned to the wary girl sitting on the edge of the bed, and was about to open his mouth, ready to give the wicked lecture that his mind was swiftly preparing, when the sound of a voice reached his ears.  
  
For that was the thing; silencing charms on a room prevented people outside hearing what was going on inside, but the people inside the room could still hear what was going on outside. And Draco didn't like what he heard.  
  
A banging on Draco's door accompanied the voice, and Draco's gaze turned towards the closed and warded wooden panel.  
  
"GINNY! WHAT THE BLOODY HELL ARE YOU DOING IN THERE WITH MALFOY?! GET YOUR ARSE OUT HERE, GINNY! MUM'S HAVING A FIT, HARRY'S WORRIED SICK THAT YOU'VE BEEN ABDUCTED OR SOMETHING, AND THE TWINS ARE BLOODY READY TO KILL YOU FOR NOT TELLING THEM YOU WERE COMING TO PARIS!"  
  
Ginny gulped.  
  
A/N: Finally an update. Sorry it took so long. School problems; my midterm report wasn't that great, and I was sort of banned from the computer... *sniffle*  
  
Anyway. My eternal thanks to all of my reviewers, and to all my readers, and everyone else. Meh. Hope you enjoyed.  
  
Just to tell you all, Ginny's still sort of playing her game of seduction. All of the confusing whining and sulking and pouting and kissing of random American teenage boys in elevators is all part of the plan... 


	12. Twelve

Disclaimer: I own nothing. So don't sue me.  
  
"YOU LET MY BABY SISTER GO RIGHT NOW, MALFOY, OR I'LL BLAST THIS DOOR DOWN AND AVADA KEDAVRA YOU INTO THE NEXT MILLENIUM!" More banging on the door accompanied this statement, and Ginny gulped.  
  
"Ron... Oh, shit, I'm so dead, mum's going to kill me, Harry'll probably end everything and god knows I wouldn't be able to show my face in the common room if the boy-who-should-have-died dumped, oh, shit, this is horrible, damn it, got to hide, maybe he'll think he was hallucinating, but he'll bring me home anyway, since he's seen..." She was muttering, a string of almost incoherent phrases pouring from her lips.  
  
"I take it you forgot to do something today, Virginia?" Draco queried, glancing from the door to his toy.  
  
"Should've owled mum, but I forgot..."  
  
"Tsk, tsk," he tutted, all the while thinking quickly.  
  
She had said something about Potter ending things – that gave him reason to believe Boy Wonder was somehow involved with the willowy redhead sitting on his bed. But if that was true, why had she acted the way she had? Unless it had all been an act.  
  
"Come here, Virginia," he ordered, ignoring for the moment the sound of her brother trying to break down the door.  
  
She obeyed, wondering what in Merlin's name the evil git had planned, and wondering how in the name of all things holy she was going to get out of this fix.  
  
He watched as she approached, and when she was standing in front of him, he reached out and tugged at her shirt. It opened easily; the front had been barely held closed by the buttons. She gasped. Tossing the now-ruined garment to the floor, he pulled the beret from her head, and mussed her hair.  
  
"What the fuck are you doing?" She hissed, covering her chest with her arms.  
  
"You'll see," he replied, before crushing her lips with his, the same bruising pressure that he had applied before.  
  
He released her a moment later, smirking to see that she was breathless, her cheeks flushed – whether out of pleasure or fury, he wasn't sure. Pulling his own shirt off, as she glared, he tossed it on the back of a chair, ordered her to remove her shoes, and quite literally tossed her on the bed.  
  
She squealed, upon becoming airborne after toeing off her shoes, and landed with a flump and a bounce on the mattress. Her landing was sufficiently bouncy enough to set the sheets in a state of disarray just believable enough to help along Draco's plan.  
  
Before she could scramble off the bed, horrified as she was at his intentions, he had removed the spells from the door, and was pulling it open, a practiced look of smugly condescending annoyance on his face.  
  
Her brother stormed into the room.  
  
"RON!" She shrieked the name of her older brother, as the two siblings made eye contact, and Draco couldn't have been more sadistically amused.  
  
Covering her chest, incredibly conscious of the situation Draco had thrown – quite literally – her into, she scrambled off the bed and hid behind the blond who was responsible for the whole mess.  
  
"What do you want, Weasel?" Patented Draco Malfoy drawl was the only sound in the room as, with a wave of his wand, Draco closed the hotel room door behind one very shocked Ronald Weasley.  
  
Ginny peeked out from behind Draco's shoulder, eyes wide in ill-disguised terror.  
  
"YOU FILTHY LITTLE BASTARD! I'LL KILL YOU, SO HELP ME MERLIN!" With that lovely remark, Ron leapt at Draco – and Ginny – with every intent of beating the former to a bloody pulp.  
  
A deft move, and Draco had tossed Ginny on the bed once again, before stepping easily out of the way of the oncoming Ron.  
  
The redheaded boy ended up falling on his rear, as he crashed into one of the chairs, and shook his head, trying to clear it, as he stood up, fists raised.  
  
Ginny, meanwhile, had scrambled under the covers of Draco's bed, intent on hiding herself from the view of her livid brother.  
  
"GET OUT! GET OUT, GET OUT, GET OUT! GO AWAY, RON!" Her shrieks were slightly muffled, as she had covered her head with the comforter, a splash of red hair on the pillow the only visible part of her body.  
  
"I believe, Weasel, that Virginia isn't pleased to see you. I'm afraid I'll have to ask you to leave."  
  
"GINNY! GET YOUR ARSE OVER HERE!" Ron reached for the bed covers and tore them away from his sister, revealing her huddled form.  
  
He grabbed at her wrist, but she writhed away, scrambling off the bed and locking herself in the bathroom.  
  
"GO HOME, RON!" She yelled through the closed wooden door, pounding with her fist on the panel for emphasis.  
  
"What did you do to her, Ferret?" Ron turned his attention back to the smirking blond, his eyes narrowed in what most would deem a dangerous manner.  
  
Draco raised a brow.  
  
"What did I do to her? I did absolutely nothing, Weasel. She is here of her own accord." His reply was smooth, and the other young man blanched.  
  
"You've cursed her, or something! Let her go! There's no way she would be here with you, you filthy little death eater! She loves Harry!"  
  
As Ginny heard her brother's words from the safety of the bathroom, her jaw dropped. She did not love the boy-who-lived! Sure, she liked him, and was dating him, but she sure as hell didn't love him. She was considering ending things with him, anyway – he was rather boring. Besides that, his ego had been growing constantly, she had noticed, no doubt because of the fact that every eligible female in the wizarding world seemed to be after him, and that at the moment, he had the most sought-after female in Hogwarts to hang off his arm.  
  
Dragging an oversized towel from the rack, she wrapped it securely around her upper body, and stormed from the porcelain lined room to confront her brother.  
  
"You listen here, Ronald Arthur Weasley. I am not in love with Harry Potter, so don't go telling yourself or anyone else such things. I am here with Draco of my own accord, and you aren't going to do a thing about it. So I suggest you go home, tell mum I'm quite all right and that I had a late night last night and forgot to owl her, nothing more. You will tell Harry that I have not been abducted, and that I am ending things with him, as he is incredibly boring. You will tell Fred and George that I will not be a lackey for their business, and that if they want to set up a shop in France, they can do it themselves. Do I make myself clear?" She was every inch the furious Queen chastising a disobedient servant, as she berated her older brother, and Draco could have laughed.  
  
He restrained himself, however, and watched as Ron opened and closed his mouth several times, his face conspicuously pale with shock. He didn't dare to disobey his younger sister's wrath, however, and backed slowly from the room, nodding his head in silent acquiescence and closing the door behind him.  
  
Well, she mused, so much for Draco getting her out of the mess he had created. If you want something done right, do it yourself. It had long been her motto, and generally applied to every situation she found herself in.  
  
Draco started to approach her, a satisfied smirk on his lips, and she shot him a glare that would have had a lesser man cowering in terror. As it was, he stopped in his tracks, watching as she collapsed on his bed. He couldn't help but note that she looked incredibly suited to that bed.  
  
"You, Draco Lucius Malfoy, will stay by my side for the duration of my stay here. You will have your wand with you at all times, and you will not let me out of your sight. Is that clear?"  
  
Interesting, he mused; now he wasn't allowed to leave her side. Domineering little wench, was Virginia Weasley.  
  
"Why, Virginia, may I ask has this sudden change come about?"  
  
"Harry Potter will be here within the day, and he will be hell-bent on killing you and taking me back home, where I will be forced to castrate my older brother Ronald and endure the aforementioned Boy Wonder's endless queries and disappointed looks. Needless to say, I am not looking forward to returning home at the end of the holidays, and I have no intention of returning sooner than I must, and against my will at that." A challenging glare accompanied her statement, as though she dared him to defy her regal order.  
  
"Your wish is my command, Your Highness," his tone was mocking, and a mock bow accompanied his words.  
  
Seething, she leapt at him, uncaring for the moment that she was in little more than her knickers, and tackled him to the ground. Eventually, after much scratching and hitting, a knee in the groin and a bite on the neck, she had him pinned to the carpet, her knees on either side of his bare chest, her hands pinning his arms above his head.  
  
He smirked, despite the dull ache in his – ahem – nether regions.  
  
"Quite the little dominatrix, aren't you, love?"  
  
"Shut it, Malfoy."  
  
"And testy, too."  
  
As he was enjoying himself so much, she thought it only fitting to punch him in the nose.  
  
Releasing one of his hands, her fist had almost connected with his aristocratic nose when a pair of slender fingers wrapped around her wrist. She had forgotten he was a Seeker at Quidditch.  
  
She glared, and quick as lightning found herself pinned to the floor in the exact same position she had forced him into barely moments before.  
  
"Now, pet, you should know better than to do something like that, shouldn't you?"  
  
Her eyes narrowed in response, and it was then that she noticed the lack of clothing on her chest – the towel apparently having fallen off during their brief wrestling match.  
  
"Er, do you mind letting go? It's not very comfortable down here." A soft blush curled up her cheeks, as he glanced at her upper torso, and she looked away, unable to meet his amused gaze.  
  
He raised a brow, smirk returning to his lips.  
  
"Sorry, love. I'm quite comfortable right here."  
  
"Damn it, Draco, let me go!" She started to struggle then, trying to wriggle out from under him, and he chuckled.  
  
"Virginia, darling, I'll let you go in my own good time. But first, I believe I deserve an explanation."  
  
"Deserve? You heartless bastard, you don't deserve anything. You're keeping me here against my will; you've implied threats to my life; and now you've got me trapped beneath you in a most indecent position. Let. Me. Go."  
  
"Tut, tut, pet. Such language. And I assure you, my parents were quite legally married before I was born. Personally, I think this position is quite decent. However – if you give me the explanation I want, I will let you up, and you can go get dressed."  
  
She scowled, but as she wasn't exactly able to refuse, she nodded her head.  
  
"Exactly what sort of explanation do you want, mister Malfoy?"  
  
He settled back a bit, resting most of his weight on his knees, but still leaving her pinned to the floor. He rather liked her in that position.  
  
"What I would like to know, Miss Weasley, is why, exactly I have found myself in such a delightful situation as this."  
  
She glared.  
  
"It's entirely your fault, you know."  
  
"Is it?"  
  
"Well, if you hadn't insisted on being the insufferable, inbred git that you are, and very nearly assaulted me in my own hotel room, we wouldn't be here right now. But nooooooooooooooooooooooo, the great Draco Malfoy insisted on picking on a defenseless sixteen-year-old, and has now screwed up her life beyond repair."  
  
"Excuse me?"  
  
She sighed.  
  
"Harry and I have been dating, and even though I am quite sick of the prick, I know it's expected of us to stay together, while Harry's just an egotistical airhead – more even than yourself. And, while I do on occasion satisfy his, ahem, needs, he is really rather boring in bed, and incredibly selfish. He's an all around dull person, really. At any rate, we've stayed together because he likes having a prize that everyone else wants, and because I will have to endure the torment of most of Gryffindor House – not to mention my entire extended family – if I break it off with him."  
  
"But you just told your brother to inform Potter that you're ending things."  
  
"Well, yes, I know, but Ron made me so mad, and it's about time I ended things with Harry anyway – I'm not about to spend the rest of my life with the git - "  
  
"But you've spent this long with him."  
  
"Would you shut up and let me finish?"  
  
He raised a brow, but remained silent.  
  
"So, since I've sent Ronald back home to tell Harry I've ended things, he's going to be getting his over-large ego over here as soon as possible, as Ronald will have no doubt told him some freakish story about how you've got me under Imperio, and Potter will be hell-bent on taking me back home, where I won't have any choice but to stay with him, as my parents will most probably be horrible and forbid anything otherwise. So now, since I have no intention of going back home, nor do I intend to continue to date Wonder Boy, you aren't going to let me out of your sight, since you got me into this mess in the first place."  
  
"Indeed," was his only response to her little tirade.  
  
"Don't patronize me, Draco," she pouted, glaring up at him. "And you said you'd let me go when I explained. So let me go."  
  
He sighed, but released her arms and shifted so he was sitting on the carpet instead of on her, and she sat up, rubbing her wrists and scowling.  
  
"You really are a git, you know that?" She asked conversationally, rising and going in search of her blouse.  
  
He didn't reply, instead moving and settling himself on the edge of the bed, thinking. If what she said was true, and he had no doubts about that, then he had the perfect weapon to use against the Dream Team right in front of him.  
  
She could feel his eyes boring into her back, as she finally found her blouse by the foot of the bed, and she straightened, looking forlornly at the ruined garment before turning to face him.  
  
"Did your mother never tell you it's rude to stare?" She asked tartly, bending down once more to retrieve her towel from the carpet and wrapping it securely over her chest.  
  
"Not that I recall, no," he replied easily, raising a brow as she planted her hands on her hips.  
  
He raised his hands in a mockingly defensive gesture, inclining his head slightly and missing the venomous glare she shot his way.  
  
"If you don't mind, Draco, I'd like to be wearing something when my ex- boyfriend gets here, as I have no intention of listening to him berate me for anything more than necessary." She gestured to her ruined blouse and then to her duffel.  
  
"Ah, pet, don't worry. You and I aren't going to be here when Potter arrives."  
  
A/N: I apologize most profusely for the horrible delay in posting this chapter, and if it seems odd, well, that's because it is. I am suffering from an acute case of lost plot bunnies with this story, as well as Hangovers and Dragons, hence my slowness and oddity. 


End file.
